


Flavour (DISCONTINUED)

by orphan_account



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - High School, Georgie's Still Missing, Making Out, Multi, Trans Male Character, Trans!Richie, Underage Drinking, Underage Smoking, pennywise never happened
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-02
Updated: 2017-12-14
Packaged: 2019-01-28 15:50:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12610108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Richie Tozier is fourteen and he's already been through hell and back. Freshman year and being transgender really isn't helping.





	1. The Vanishing of Richie Tozier's Never-Before-Seen Heterosexuality

  Richie always read shit online about people just... walking out of school and going home. Every fanfiction, every “totally real not clickbait at all I'm being one hundred percent legit” Tumblr post about social fucking justice, and it pissed him off. Richie couldn't just walk out of the front doors of the fucking school and go home. The best he could do was either have a friend call the front office and pretend to be his dad, or he could find an exit to sneak out of and walk to the McDonald's a mile or two away, and wait until school was out.

  However, he didn't have many friends who could do a decent impression of his father, and even less who could drive. And the closest exit to the _worst_ class was right next to the ROTC hall, where an ROTC nut was usually standing on the phone with his girlfriend making sure she hadn't fucked some guy on the football team. Plus, they were the ones who liked to fuck him over most of the time, so. There was that.

  So Richie was stuck in fucking Algebra, dealing with upperclassmen who had either failed the class or refused to take it until later on egging him on. Whispering shit about him (“Oh, isn't that the chick who says she's a dude?”) or throwing paper balls at him with his birthname and a vagina drawn _oh so realistically_ on it.

  To make things so much better, he had _one_ friend in _one_ of his classes. It was his first period, which was cool, but that was it. An hour and a half of seeing Bill, and he could barely fucking talk to him anyway. He'd hang out with Bill outside for a while before class, talk to him about the previous day, get a sympathetic look and a hug and some candy, then they'd sit inside the shitty trailer and learn French from some elitist who thought _everything_ about France was just the coolest shit.

  He had a friend who had the same lunch as him, too, which was nice, and they usually hung out in the bathroom smoking and talking shit. She was willing to go to the dude's bathroom, which fucking rocked. Bev was good. He didn't really have anyone else, so he was stuck dealing with transphobic assholes in all of his classes.

  The only good part about it was that his parents really didn't give a shit. They didn't care if he missed class, they didn't care about e-mailing the teachers to tell them to call him Richard. It was cool. They were cool about that. They _weren't_ cool about getting him T or paying for his binders or even the shipping for them, and they were still abusive _assholes,_ but he could deal. It was only four years, and then he was fucking _out of there._

  Of course, his girlfriend - who he was a year a junior to - was a _bitch_ and had to tell everyone he had abused her. He fucking _didn't,_ thank you very much, and anyone who knew him knew that. He couldn't do that. Even people who hated him knew he couldn't do that. Everyone knew how in love with her he was, and the people who hated him stopped being as huge of assholes to him when they found out she cheated on him, so that was cool.

  However, in the transition from middle school to high school, he wasn't a big kid anymore. He wasn't the big bad five foot five eighth grader in the back of the bus who would kick the shit out of you if you tried to touch him. He was, instead, the fucking _shrimp_ of a freshman who, even though he was an inch or two taller than the previous year, would take your shit without doing anything.

  Picking on Richie meant you were in. Asking him about his dick and his weight and his chest was something you could do if you were feeling down that day. He was becoming weaker as the years went on: in sixth grade, he was kinda chunky and would come in yelling dick jokes and making friends. He was new in sixth grade - no one knew him.

  As the years went on, he got a little skinnier - especially in his eighth-grade year - and a little bit taller and a little bit blinder. He started to wear glasses and not talk to anyone but his friends. Of course, he had barely any of those. As the years went on, so did the dwindling of his friend group. He went from a couple dozen friends in his grade to five or six to just two, and it kinda sucked. He barely knew anyone, but everyone knew him.

  Henry Bowers and his ex-girlfriend made sure of that.

  Henry Bowers fucking _sucked._ He'd make fun of Richie for the way his eyes looked behind his glasses, for his weight, for how high his voice was. However, he was too fucking stupid to listen to anyone else and he wouldn't call Richie his birthname or ask where his dick was. Richie would have been grateful for his idiocy if it hadn't been the reason he was held back.

  This was all in the first month.

  On the fifth Monday of the year, he and Bev were sitting on the sinks and smoking and talking about how shitty their parents were.

  "I don't fucking get it, man. They'll tell the teachers what to call you, _they'll_ call you Richie, but they won't do anything else?"

  "Nope. It sounds... fucking fake. Like I could scam fools online for money," he sighed. He took a long drag from his cigarette and blew it out of his nose, ignoring the slight burn that made his eyes gloss over. "I hate this shit."

  "Well," Bev started, taking a moment to let the smoke flow out from between her lips as if she was in a fucking movie, "think about it. This school is overcrowded and underfunded. There are _two_ broken down bathrooms that no one has bothered to fix. There are water stains and there's mildew and mould in every single goddamn room and hallway. Those trailers were supposed to be there for a few _months_ a couple _years_ ago."

  "Okay... and?"

  "Let me finish, asshole. We live in a town where we," she gestured between the two of them, "can get cigarettes whenever we fucking want, as long as we have the money for it. Or we can steal it. Kids go fucking missing all the time and they're forgotten about. Think about -"

  "Get to the fucking point," Richie snapped. _Don't talk about him like that,_ he wanted to say. He didn't.

  "Anyway, it's expected. One day all of these assholes will be in prison, or some shit, and you'll be out there making money in fucking... LA, or something. Hollywood. I dunno. You'll be okay. You've got me, you've got Bill, you're likeable. When people actually get to know you. You'll make more friends. You'll date more people. You'll get older, and the pricks in your classes who were too stupid to move on will be gone."

  Richie bit his lip and remained quiet for a while. "Also, I'm sorry for bringing him up. I got carried away," she added quietly. "I didn't mean to upset you, Rich."

  The nickname made him smile a bit and he shrugged. "Sorry for snapping. I... you know how it is." They both finished their cigarettes and stood and there was a bit of an awkward silence before Richie piped up with, "Do you wanna come over tonight?"

  Bev bit her lip and thought it over for a minute before shaking her head. "I can't. My dad's gonna be home by five. I'm sorry. If you wanna ditch and walk to Mickey D's, though, I can do that."

  "No, it's cool. I'll ask Bill. Oh, wait," he stopped walking and dug around in his pocket for a minute. "Here," he handed her a wad of twenty dollars in ones. "I'm... I'm sorry it took so long," he said softly. Bev didn't have time to say anything because the stupid bell rang, and Richie had to cover his ears. Bev thanked him with a kiss on the cheek, and they went their separate ways.

  He wandered into the stupid fucking classroom with its stupid fucking "hang in there!" kitten posters and "there's no 'I' in teamwork!" _bullshit._ Of course, some stupid fucking sophomore girls who knew him from his ex were already talking about him.

  "She smells like smoke... do you think she smokes?"

  "Of course he does, dipshit. He's always hanging out with that dyke in the bathroom. I heard they smoke pot and shit in there."

  "No, we just fuck," Richie mumbled, and the girls looked up at him, surprised. The one who misgendered him glared and the one who was at least a _little_ respectful laughed.

  "Sorry. I didn't realise you listened in on people's conversations."

  "I didn't realise you were a fucking bitch, yet... here we are!" he said, a little too passive aggressively. "We don't smoke pot, idiot. Do you smell pot? Do I smell like _pot_ to you? You know... didn't you claim to be a stoner? You said you were 'so fucking _high,_ Stephanie'. You were _oh so fucked up,_ remember?"

  The girl's cheeks started burning and she didn't get a chance to reply before the teacher told everyone to sit down. Richie was convinced she didn't _have_ a name. No one called her Mrs _Anything,_ she was just "The Algebra Teacher In Room 94".

  "All right, you all should have your homework on your d -"

  She was cut off by the door creaking open. No one looked, as they expected it to just be Bang or something (Which was his actual name. It wasn't a nickname.) but it _wasn't._ It was some short, scrawny kid wearing a fucking polo and shorts shorter than the ones the girls on the cheer team wore.

  He had stupid fucking hair and he had a fucking _fanny pack_ and freckles dotted his nose.

  Richie swore he was in love.

  "Ah. I forgot. Class, this is...?"

  "Eddie," the kid said, his voice wavering a bit. "I'm... Eddie. K - Kaspbrak."

  "Are you a Jew?" someone in the back spoke up. The kid with curls that Richie had a slight crush on sighed and rolled his eyes, putting his chin in his hand. Stanley. His name was Stanley and he was Jewish and Richie saw him talking to Bill sometimes, and Bowers liked to terrorise him, too, so he was cool in Richie's book.

  Eddie didn't respond and The Algebra Teacher In Room 94 told him to sit next to Stanley, and it made Richie smile. He immediately wanted to die, however, when he heard that they were doing some fucking group bonding exercises. They hadn't really done anything the first month except use how to use a fucking calculator and review, and she was the type of person who thought if you didn't have friends, you weren't going to survive high school.

  She put people together and Richie was about to go to either Eddie and Stanley or Greta and her friends' group, and he was praying to every deity he could think of that he got put with Eddie and Stanley. "Richard, you go to Stanley's group." _Thanks, GG. You're chill in my book now._

  He grabbed his bag and scrambled over to them. "... So you're Jewish, right? How does that... how's that dealt with here?" Eddie was asking, fiddling with the zipper on his fucking fanny pack. Richie's heart sped up.

  "No one really gives a shit," Stanley sighed. "They call me gay. Well, I _am,_ but that's... they say worse, you know? There are, of course, the fucking skinheads that walk past me and claim that I killed Christ, and dicks who drew horns on my picture when I won the spelling bee in eighth grade, but... Other than that, no one cares. The new hot topic is if you're anything not straight or cisgender."

  "It fucking sucks," Richie cut in. He sat down and swallowed a little, trying to make his voice deeper. "I'm Richie," he said, this time his voice satisfyingly deeper.

  Stanley smiled at him and Richie’s heart melted a little. "I know you. You're Bill's friend." Richie nodded. "I'm Stan. Sorry for never talking to you before."

  Richie shrugged and waved his hand. He looked at Eddie and grinned. "You're Eddie. You're new and you have a fanny pack and I think I love you."

  Eddie went red. "I - I have asthma!" he said defensively. "I need my inhaler at immediate access!"

  Richie chuckled before frowning a little. "You're allowed to have it _on_ you?"

  "My mother's very persuasive," Eddie mumbled.

  "Well, Eds, I'm glad you were given to us before anyone else. You're fucking short and I think I could pick you up and throw you across the room right now. A twink. You're a twinky boy, that's what you are." Stanley snorted and held his hand over his mouth to stifle a laugh. _This is good. I'm making friends._

  "What the hell is a twink?" Eddie frowned. When Stan started laughing harder, he made a cute noise of exasperation. "What is it? Is that some sort of insult? Are you calling me gay? Because that's _not_ cool, dude -"

  "It means you're a bottom," Stan cut in. Richie's mind was focused on one thing. _Dude. He called me dude. I'm dude. I'm a dude. He knows. He doesn't think I'm a girl. He knows. He's smart._

  "I - I... I'm like, five! I'm a fucking baby! I haven't even kissed anyone yet!" Eddie whined. While Eddie and Stan were bickering, Richie kept thinking about how Eddie called him dude. He couldn't focus on anything else until Stan shook his shoulder a little.

  "You good?"

  "Yeah... yeah, sorry."

  The rest of the class went by nicely - Richie learned that Stanley Uris was gay, _not_ bisexual, thank you very much, and that he had OCD and was the stereotype that everyone thought of. Eddie Kaspbrak had intense asthma and he was scared of people, which Richie could relate to. He also learned that him and Stan - and Eddie - had the same lunch period.

  He got permission to show Eddie to his next class and give him a little tour of the school. They had been talking about music, but something kept clawing at the back of Richie's throat, and he had to get it out. "You haven't heard anything about me, have you?" he spat out, stopping in the middle of the hall.

  "Um... I've heard some... stuff, yeah."

  "Like what?"

  "That you're pretending to be a guy." Richie's heart fucking _snapped_. His heart snapped and his stomach dropped and his head started pounding. Everything he had worked up to, everything he had worked for, it was worth nothing. He had a chance at having a friend, but no. He was just like every other - "But I think that's bullshit." The world started to spin again. His headache was lifted, his heart was sewn back together, and his stomach settled.

  "So, you know that I'm -"

  "All I need to know regarding that is that you're Richie and you're nice even though you're _kind_ of annoying, but it's nice because silence isn't something I like. You're the guy who made fun of my asthma in third-period Algebra, and you're the guy who I'm going to follow after school because I have no clue what to do or where to go and I really hope that's okay with you."

  Richie grinned and his heart was full. "Of course! I - I usually walk to the McDonald's and wander around a while before heading home or one of Bev's girls drives me home, I hope that's okay."

  "Mc _Donald's?_ Really? Do you know how bad that shit is for you?"

  "Well, their fries are nuggets are good, and I'm fucking broke, so. Don't worry, Eds, next time we go on a date, I'll take you somewhere fancy." He threw his arm around Eddie's shoulder and it felt so fucking _natural_ and he didn't want to let go. "This is you, bud. My class is," he pointed down the hall, "right there. Wait in here for me and I'll come get you, okay? Good luck, kid."

  "We're the same fucking -"

  Richie was gone before Eddie could finish his sentence.

* * *

 **bevvy wevvy:** _you like him?_

_yeah hes cute and i think i might be in love beverly_

**bevvy wevvy:** _don't go along forgetting about me now, Rich_

_how could i ever??? ur the best gal in town_

   **bevvy wevvy:** _you're... not wrong. I'm pretty fucking cool_

_i wuv u bevvy wevvy_

**bevvy wevvy:** _I hate you. delete my number or perish, fool_

_you looooooooove meeeeeeeeeeeeeeee_

**bevvy wevvy:** _beep beep fuckhead_

  **bevvy wevvy:** _shit I gotta go the bell's about to ring I'll call you later_

  Richie chuckled and he pocketed his phone, looking back at the clock. "And remember, class, the test is on _Thursday,_ so don't forget to study! Y'all can mingle now," the teacher said. She was probably one of Richie's favourite teachers - Janice. No one called her "Mrs Kane" because she hated it, so everyone called her fucking Janice. She had a twang that suggested she was southern, but she was the sweetest Texan he'd ever met.

  She was dating a girl and she talked about her a lot and she was totally whipped, and it was great when she forgot to turn the projector off and everyone saw her wallpaper; it was a photo of her girlfriend asleep on the couch with their dog laying next to her. Richie liked her. "Tozier, could you come back here?" she piped up.

  Richie pushed his way through the crowd and frowned a little. He put his hand on the edge of her desk and swallowed. "Is this about the smoking?" he asked softly.

  "What? You sm - _what?_ No. No, but it should be. Anyway," Janice shook her head and put something under Richie's hand. Money.

  "No. No, I c - you're a _teacher,_ you don't even -"

  Janice waved her hand dismissively. "Hanna's a lawyer. I'm set, kid. I... I overheard you talking to some kid in the hallway talking about you being broke. I get that you're a kid and all, but I know your dad, and I know he's a dick, and I'm... I get it. My dad was like him too. It's only fifty -"

_"Only?"_

  "Richie. Please. It's nothin', okay? Let me help. Just... keep showin' up, don't do drugs, I guess. Please don't spend that on cigarettes."

  Richie swallowed harshly but quickly pocketed the money. "Thank you. _Fuck,_ thank y - wait, no, I didn't just curse. Just... thank you. So much, I... Can I pay you back with anything? I'll mow your lawn or something."

  "No. Richie, it's -" She was cut off by the bell.

  "Thank you. Seriously, thank you so much. I have to go, I promised this kid I'd walk with him, but... thank you." With that, he rushed out of the room and down the hall. He made it to Eddie's class and waited before there was room for him to wiggle in.

  Eddie was sitting on top of a desk and chatting away with some kid. He was short and chunky and had rosy cheeks that were really fucking cute. Richie recognised him - it was the kid who stared at Bev a lot. "Richie! Richie, hey, this is Ben!" Eddie smiled. He waved Richie over and held his hands clasped together in his lap.

  Ben smiled warmly and waved a little at Richie. "Hi."

  "Hey," Richie said slowly. Eddie hopped off of the desk and the three of them fled to the hall. Richie had to yell a little over the noise, "Uh... I know you! I think. You had a thing for Beverly in the seventh -" There was a screech and Richie had to stop talking, and he wanted to fucking _die._ He had been on a roll.

  He heard a _bang!_ and ushered back, grabbing Eddie's and Ben's bags to let them know to follow him. They made it to a clear hallway and Richie shook his head, sighing exasperatedly. "I fucking hate this school," he mumbled. He paused to check his phone and smiled a little.

  **bill nye:** _can you hang out tonight?_

  **bill nye:** _I finally got Netflix and I'm lonely_

_netflix n chill ;)?_

   **bill nye:** _no! I'm a baby! Netflix and pizza and probably cuddling ok with you?_

_totally dude what time do u want me 2 be there_

   **bill nye:** _whenever your big date's done?_

_got it. lov u_

  **bill nye:** _you too_

  Richie chuckled a little and smiled up at his new friends. Eddie was talking to Ben about something and he looked absolutely ecstatic. His eyes were wide and shiny and he didn't stop bouncing. "Yeah! Yeah, and, like, it's so fucking cool, dude. You won't even..." he trailed off when he saw something in the distance.

  Richie looked to see what it was and he didn't get time to process it before he got shoved and spat at. He narrowly avoided it. _One. Two. Three._ "Oh, did I get spit on your shoe? Maybe you should be grateful, it'll fucking clean them a little." _Four. Five. Six._ "Who's these? Your boyfriends? I'm fucking impressed, Tozier." _Seven. Eight._ "Your taste has gotten better." Patrick started to move in on Richie, backing him up against the wall. _N..._ "'Least it isn't Stuttering Fuckin' Bill." _Nine._ "He's fucking ugly. Glad you chose someone at least a little better." _Ten._

  Richie shoved Patrick away and was getting to fucking _destroy_ him, but Bill came down the hallway, doing some weird shit with his hands and talking to a teacher Richie hadn't seen before. Patrick scowled down at Richie and shoved him against the wall hard enough to hit his shoulder and make Eddie wince before leaving.

  Richie kept quiet, the weight of Patrick's hands not quite gone yet. His hands were shaking and he started to tear up a little. His breathing got quicker and more frantic. "Richie, are you..." Eddie's voice was fading and eventually, all Richie heard was ringing.

  Richie didn't know when Bill got there or when he fell to the floor or when he started to properly cry. Bill held him and pet his hair down and let him cry and Richie was beyond ashamed. _Eddie's gonna fucking hate me. First I'm trans, now I'm a fucking crybaby._ "Richie," Bill whispered. Richie hummed in response. "The kids are gone," he said, his voice still quiet. "I m - muh - made them leave. They d - don't know what happened. You're okay."

  Richie nodded and sighed softly, relaxing a bit. He took his glasses off to wipe angrily at his eyes, and Bill grabbed his wrist. "Be c - c - careful, asshole. You're g - gonna make yourself even blinder than you are now." Richie laughed at that, and so did Bill. Richie kissed Bill's cheek patted his knee.

  "I need to get up or I'm going to fucking suffocate. Help me?" Bill stood and held out a hand for Richie to grab and pull himself up with. "What would I do without you?"

  "Suffocate." Bill and Richie made direct eye contact for about twenty seconds before bursting into laughter again, which made Richie grab his ribs and wheeze a little. They calmed down and Bill pulled out a small box. "Oh, I uh... I m - muh - made this for someone," he mumbled. He opened it and Richie's heart melted. It wasn't anything spectacular, but the amount of detail in it was. It was a little wooden heart with a fancy B engraved in it.

  Richie looked up at Bill, whose face was red and eyes were trained on the floor. "Who's it for?"

  "Hm? Oh! N - No one you kn - know!" Bill said, a little too loudly, and Richie shook his head.

  "Not for me? I don't get Bill's heart? Damn, I thought I had you hooked." They laughed and Bill put it away. Richie asked a few more times as they walked to Bill's house, but when Bill changed the subject to Richie, it got dropped.

  "So... who was that kid, anyway? I know B - Ben, he's in my second p - p - p - p -" _Period._ Richie let his hand brush against Bill's to let him know he understood.

  "The kid I was talking about the date with. It wasn't even a date, by the way, fuck you. He told me he was going to follow me. Does he have a ride home?" Richie stopped and his hands flew up to his hair to tug at it. "God, fucking - Jesus - _fuck!"_

  "Richie. _Richie,_ calm down," Bill said. He walked back to Richie and grabbed his wrists. "Let go." Richie complied and Bill sighed softly, taking one of Richie's hands into his own. "B - B - Ben said his mom c - could give Eddie a r - ride. He's okay. You b - b - b - bla - bl -"

  "Blacked out?" Richie offered softly, fearfully.

  "Yeah. But Eddie's fine, Rich. He's in g - good hands. I trust Ben."

  Richie hesitated, then nodded and let himself relax a little. "Okay." He waited before snickering a little and adding, "Is Ben the human embodiment of Allstate?"

  "I fucking hate you, Richie."

* * *

  Bill's house was the only place - except for his - Richie could just... _not_ wear his binder in. His chest was fucking huge, but Bill never said anything. If Richie wanted to keep his binder on, Bill let him until he started wheezing when he breathed. He was laying in Bill's bed, his head in Bill's lap, and some stupid show about spray painting dicks was on in the background. Bill was playing with Richie's hair and talking about his day, and it made Richie beyond happy.

  Bill and Richie met when Richie had no one. He was new, no one knew who he was, he had a buzz surrounding him, being the new kid. No one was brave enough to ask him to sit with them: he wasn't cool enough for the _cool_ people, but he was still fresh meat, so the losers couldn't reel him in. Until Bill sat with him at lunch.

_"C - C - Can I s - sit h - h - h - h... h - h -"_

_"Yeah! Yeah, please do," Richie grinned. The kid looked astonished and he smiled, which was a nice change of pace from the frown he'd been wearing moments before from being stuck on 'here'._

_"Th - Thank you. I d - d - don't have anywh - anywh - wh - any -"_

_"It's okay! I'm Richie."_

_"B - Buh - Bill."_

_"'Buh Buh Bill'? Or just Bill?" Richie asked with a shit-eating grin spread across his face._

_'Buh Buh Bill' laughed. He hadn't laughed because of people making fun of his stutter since... ever. He knew something was different about Richie. He, for some reason, knew Richie wasn't trying to be an asshole. They found comfort in each other, and by the end of the week, no matter how many people warned Richie to stay away from him, no matter how many people called Bill gay or said he'd give Richie AIDS, he stuck by Bill's side and neither of them let go._

“And then I ran into _Stan,_ which… was weird, but a good weird, you know?”

  Richie nodded and closed his eyes. “I met Stan today,” he said. He noticed that Bill didn’t stutter, but decided to not comment on it.

  Bill chuckled and shook his head at the idea of his boys talking. “Oh? What did you think?”

  “He was funny. I called Eddie - the short one with the fanny pack - (“I know, Richie, I met him.”) a twink and he was trying really hard not to laugh.” Bill laughed and he moved his hand to cover his mouth and muffle it, which Richie whined at. When Bill put his hand back in its _proper_ place (in Richie’s hair), he continued. “I liked him. I didn’t know he was gay.”

   Bill nodded and he looked down at Richie, his cheeks a little pink. “That’s good. Would you want to h - hang out with him, like… p - p - p - properly?” _There it is._

“Yeah,” Richie said softly. He looked up at Bill and snickered. “Why are you blushing? Do you have a _cruuuuush?”_

  “What? No, no, that’s fucking -” Bill didn’t have time to defend himself before the doorbell rang. He left Richie to go see who it was, which gave Richie time to get on his phone and text Bev.

   _bev_

_hey bev_

**bevvy wevvy:** _what?_

_i think bill likes some1 and i think it’s stanley uris and i think i love it_

**bevvy wevvy:** _don’t you like both of them?_

_irrelevant ! im gonna be the best fuckin wingman_

**bevvy wevvy:** _be careful, Richie. don’t let yourself get hurt._

When the door opened, Richie jumped a little. He put his phone away and grinned up at Bill. “I’m not gonna let you drop it, Billy. Who is it? Is it Stan? I bet it is.”

  Bill shook his head and dropped the pizza box onto the bed. “You’re ridiculous,” he mumbled. He ran his fingers through his hair and puffed his cheeks before sitting down. “What do you wanna watch? We can k - k - keep watching this, or w - we can watch Criminal Minds, or suh - something.”

  Richie shrugged and sat up. “Whatever you want. I’m not paying attention, anyway.”

  “But they’re a - ab - about to find out who it is! Richie, you p - p - prick!” Bill slapped Richie’s arm and Richie frowned.

  “Well, _excuse me._ I was more interested in my best friend talking about his day, but sure. Sorry,” he shook his head. He grabbed a slice of pizza and paused as he was still chewing to ask, “Who is it?” again.

  Bill kept quiet as he went back to the first episode. “The v - v - vandal? Well, I’d know if y - y - you were p - paying a - a - at - at - attention.”

  “Bill -”

  “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

   _“Bill.”_

 _“Richie,”_ Bill snapped in the same voice Richie used to say his name. “I don’t want to f - fucking talk about it, okay?”

  Richie nodded slowly and finished his slice, keeping his eyes trained on the sheets. _I pissed him off._ He did his best to pay attention to what was being said on the TV. He really was interested in who was the one who spray painted a bunch of cocks on cars, but he couldn’t get Bill’s words out of his mind. He picked at his sleeves and jumped when Bill said, “Rich?”

  Richie looked up at Bill, who had worry written all over his face. “Yeah?”

  “I - I… I didn’t m - m - mean t - t - t - to upset you -”

  “What?” Richie laughed and he shook his head. “Nah, man, I’m fine -”

  “No, you’re not. C - C’mere,” Bill sighed. He put the pizza box on the floor and scooted up the bed, holding out his arm. Richie followed him and put his head on Bill’s shoulder.

  “You’re right,” he said softly. “I’m sorry for pissing you off, though. I shouldn’t have pressed it. I just _really_ want to know who.” _I need to know if it’s me,_ he wanted to say. He didn’t. “You know I didn’t mean anything by it.”

  Bill nodded and kissed Richie’s temple. “I know. It’s… two people. Which is really f - f - fucking irritating, because they’re both amazing, but I can’t d - date them both because that’s weird. And th - th - they’re friends, I - I g - guess, so I wouldn’t be able to just avoid one of them if I d - d - d - dated the other. I wouldn’t _want_ to.”

  Richie’s heart started beating really fucking fast. “Can you tell me at least one of them?”

  “No, b - because you’ll run off and t - tell them.”

  “The other?” Richie didn’t realise how close Bill’s face was to his until then. Bill turned to look at Richie and he audibly swallowed.

  “I just can’t,” he whispered. Richie’s eyes flickered to Bill’s lips and then back up to his eyes. Bill’s hand was on Richie’s cheek, Richie’s eyes were closing, and then they were kissing. It wasn’t like when he had kissed any of his exes - it was different. It _mattered._ Richie’s hand found its place on Bill’s hip.

  “Yeah?” Richie whispered against Bill’s lips when they pulled apart to breathe.

  Bill chuckled softly and nodded. “Yeah,” he answered.

  When he kissed Richie again, it was a little better. In the short time of the first kiss, Bill had figured out where to hold his head and where to put his hands. After a while, it started to get a little more than just _kissing,_ and Richie was pleased. When Bill tugged gently, experimentally on Richie’s hair, Richie gasped softly. Bill giggled - fucking _giggled -_ and Richie whined. “Shut up,” he sighed. Bill kissed Richie’s neck softly and Richie pushed him away gently.

  “Is - Did I m - mess -”

  “No. _God,_ no, no, nothing like that, just…” Richie bit his lip and shrugged. “I… I didn’t…”

  “Yeah,” Bill said. He scratched the back of his neck and pink started to spread across his cheeks. “Is that… okay? W - Was that okay?”

  Richie nodded and he snuggled down against Bill’s chest. “Yeah. More than okay.”

  Bill’s fingers laced with Richie’s and Richie smiled a little. He closed his eyes and let himself doze off.


	2. The Vanishing of Richie Tozier's Self Esteem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He blamed the way he could feel Eddie’s heart pounding under his thumbs on the adrenaline. “Shut up,” Eddie mumbled. He shoved Richie away, a bit too harshly, and adjusted his bag back onto his shoulders properly. “I have to go,” he said quickly, then got to running off again. Richie’s heart sank and he stared off after him.
> 
> “Dude,” Stan said softly. “What’s his problem?”
> 
> “I don’t know,” Richie replied, his lips barely moving. I did too much, he wanted to say. He didn’t.

   Thick air and weak sunlight filtered through dark clouds was what was keeping Richie company. It was too cold and humid for an October morning, and he  _ wasn’t  _ having it. His binder felt too tight and his breath was coming out in short, wheezy pumps. Of course, to help his lungs stop collapsing, he did the logical thing: pulled out a cigarette and lit it. Okay, maybe it  _ wasn’t  _ the most logical thing, as the smoke burned his eyes and made it even harder to breathe, but it helped him calm down. 

  He sat on his bag as he waited for the bus to come and tried to ignore the itch he got when some of the other kids at the stop pulled out a blunt. He closed his eyes and ignored the smell, ignored the memories, ignored everything he could. He knew he’d have to wait another two weeks for his bike to get fixed, and he’d have to deal with the smell and the itch and the memories for another two weeks. 

  He vaguely heard someone say something about his ex girlfriend with her new boyfriend, and he didn’t care. He really didn’t. It had ended in the December before, and he didn’t give a single shit. Except he did, because she was ruining his life and ruining her ex girlfriend’s life, and as much as Richie hated himself, he had the brains to know that even  _ he  _ didn’t deserve it. 

  He dealt with people talking about her until the bus came, and then he took his seat in the second seat on the right side, and stared out the window. He kept his forehead pressed against the glass as best as he could with his glasses in the way, kept to himself, and let the girl with the huge ass instrument sit with him. 

  When he got off, he smiled a little as he saw Stan and Bill sitting by the entrance. He walked off the bus and tried to beeline toward them, shoving his way through the crowd of people standing by and avoiding class for as long as possible. Bill’s ears went pink when he saw Richie, but a huge grin stretched across Stanley’s face. “Richie! Richie, come here.”

  Richie raised an eyebrow and he looked at Bill.  _ What is he planning?  _ He asked. Bill didn’t answer.  _ Bill?  _ Richie furrowed his eyebrows and shook his head a little at Bill. Bill just shrugged and looked back at Stan. Richie walked closer to Stan and leaned against the column. “What do you -”

  “We have the same lunch, right?” Stan cut him off. Richie nodded slowly and Stan’s grin grew impossibly bigger. “Great! Okay, so,  _ I  _ was thinking… you, me, Eddie, and your lady friend should all sit together. I know you and her just sit in the bathroom and smoke, so you don’t exactly have anything important to do.”

  Richie frowned and looked down at his shoes. “I - I don’t know. There’s nowhere to sit, really, and there are a lot of -” Bill bumped Richie’s hand with his own.  _ You’ll be okay,  _ it said. Richie smiles a little at Bill and swallowed before nodding. “Yeah. Yeah, okay, I’ll bite.” Stan opened his mouth to say something, but the bell rang, so a groan came out instead. 

  Stan threw his arm around Richie and squeezed him as a weak hug, properly hugged Bill, then ran off into the building. Richie blinked and stood there dumbly for a moment before bumping his wrist against Bill’s. “’S go,” he said softly. Bill smiled and squeezed Richie’s hand before they set off. 

* * *

  Richie kept his hands wrapped tightly around his Dr. Pepper and tried to drown everything out. Stan had gotten up to get lunch and Eddie hadn’t found them yet and Bev hadn’t shown up anyway, and he wanted to die. He kept his eyes squeezed shut and tried to let other thoughts accompany his brain, but all he could think about was the last time he had been in that fucking cafeteria.

_ “You gonna eat today, Rich?” Beverly asked softly, bumping her arm against Richie’s.  _

_   Richie bit his lip and shrugged. “I don’t know. There are a lot of people, and someone might see the screen, and… I dunno, Bev.” _

_   Bev pursed her lips, but nodded. “Okay. Well, I’m gonna go up, so if you change your mind, leave your shit here and join me,” she said. She stood and made her way to the line, and when Richie heard people talking about him, he decided to follow her.  _

_   They cracked a few jokes while they were waiting for the line to move, and when it came to Richie to put his number in to pay, the woman did something he never thought he’d have to deal with again. She asked him to confirm that he was who his profile said. His ID had his birth name and, upon hearing it, he froze. “No, that’s not - no, my name’s  _ Richie.  _ Please -” She cut him off and kept saying it, and he had to confirm that it was him. But the picture and the name  _ wasn’t  _ him.  _

_   He made his way back to the table with blurry vision and then put his head down and didn’t eat. He went home that day on the bus with tears streaming down his face the whole way home.  _

__ Richie jumped when Eddie touched his shoulder and smiled a little. “Hey. You okay?”

  Richie nodded slowly and took a moment to collect himself before grinning. “Yeah, man. How you doin’?”

  Eddie shrugged and sat next to Richie, pulling his lunch box onto the table, which made Richie snicker. “Are you actually five, Eddie? You don’t sound it, but you look it, and…” he gestured to the box.

  Eddie’s ears went red and he slapped Richie’s arm.  _ “No,  _ and fuck you. It has dividers so nothing touches, dickhead. And I’m not going within a fucking mile of the school’s food.”

  Richie chuckled and raised his eyebrows as Stan started walking back toward them. “You sure about that, Eds?”

  Eddie wrinkled his nose when Stan sat down. “I expected better of you, Stanley.”

  Stan rolled his eyes and set his Sprite down on the table. “You really shouldn’t have. I’m  _ horrible.  _ Just the worst.” Richie looked down at his hands and drowned them out, his mind wandering to places it shouldn’t have gone. He started thinking about Bev and if she was okay, where she was, why she wasn’t at school, if she was sick or just skipping or  _ hurt. _

__ Eddie, once again, threw him out of his thoughts. “Oh!” he said sharply, turning to glare at Richie. “I googled what a twink is,” he said, face turning red, “and I am  _ not  _ a twink!” 

  “Oh, but  _ Eddie,  _ you are!” Richie cried, throwing his arm over Eddie’s shoulder. “You’re a twinky boy! Look at those legs! You’re three feet tall! Eddie, my man, you are the very fucking  _ definition  _ of a twink!” 

  “Fuck you!” Eddie spat, shoving Richie off of him. Stan held his hand over his mouth and watched them, wonder swimming in his eyes. “I’m not! And I’m _five foot_ _two,_ asshole. If you’re going to insult my height, fucking do it accurately.”

  “Eddie. You’re three feet tall and you weigh about five pounds. You’re a twink. There’s no way you’re a top, or even a fucking power bottom. You’re a little twinky boy, and -”

  “Shut the  _ fuck  _ up!” Eddie hissed, slapping Richie’s arm over and over again. When Richie flinched away and fear filled his eyes for a split second, worry filled Eddie’s. Eddie didn’t know it, but he had been slapping the bruise on Richie’s bicep from his father grabbing it the night before. Richie pulled himself together and grinned, but his hands wouldn’t stop trembling. 

  Stan and Richie made eye contact, and somehow, Stan  _ knew.  _ He knew to change the subject, to not ask questions. So, when Eddie opened his mouth to ask if he was okay, Stan cut in. “Hey, Richie, do you know who you’re taking to homecoming?” Turns out that was the  _ one  _ question Stan could have asked that Richie couldn’t reply with a quick, witty comment. Until he realised that he  _ could. _

__ “Eddie’s mom, probably,” Richie chuckled. Eddie’s face went  _ red  _ and he balled his hands into fists.

  “Don’t bring her into this, asshole!” 

  Richie’s eyes went wide and he grinned wickedly. “Is Kaspbrak a  _ Mama’s Boy?”  _ he teased. He pinched Eddie’s cheek and laughed. “Just a Mama’s Boy!” he cried. “You’re so cute, Eds!” 

 “I love you two,” Stan sighed. “Old married couples fighting is my kink. Gives my heart a boner.”

  Richie clicked his tongue and shook his head. “Damn. I was hoping I’d be able to -”

  Richie was cut off when a book hit the back of his head and he fell forward. “Hey!” Stan snapped, standing and clenching his fists. “What the hell is your problem?” The dude who’d thrown the book, who none of them had seen before, snickered and shrugged. 

  “I was bored, I guess.” 

  “Well that’s not what you fucking do when you’re bored!” Stan shouted, rage bubbling up from his stomach. Richie held his hand to his head and he leaned against Eddie, doing his best to not let tears fall. 

  “Richie?” Eddie asked softly, putting his hand over Richie’s. Richie ignored the fluttering in his heart. “Are you okay? Richie, don’t listen to them. Pay attention to me,” he whispered. Richie nodded slowly and swallowed,  _ feeling  _ the blood trickle between his fingers. “Richie, hey. Come back. Yeah, there you are, okay.” Eddie’s voice was wavering and Richie wanted to die. 

  Richie tried to drown out Stan’s yelling and the yelling from the kids egging them on and did his best to focus on Eddie, but it was hard. Eventually one of the teachers from the hall actually did their  _ fucking  _ job and came running in, along with the vice principal and another teacher. They tore Stan and the guy apart and Richie was taken to the nurse’s office, but he was only half conscious during all of it. 

* * *

  The day ended in Bill cradling both Richie and Stan and Eddie staring at them. They were sat behind the dollar store a few blocks down from the school and Bill was checking Richie’s head every five minutes. “Bill, I’m  _ fine,  _ I told you. It’s just a scratch, and it looked worse than it was. Stan’s the one you sh -”

  “Richie, I got myself into it,” Stan said, moving his feet into Bill’s lap. “That asshole threw a book at you for no reason.”

  Richie moved away from Bill so Stan had more room and he moved closer to Eddie. Eddie had been quiet since it all happened, and Richie was trying to ignore the throbbing in the back of his throat that was  _ Are you mad at me?  _ but it was difficult. “Are you pissed off at Richie or something?” Bill snapped after a few minutes of Richie staring at Eddie uncomfortably. 

  Richie simultaneously wanted to slap Bill and kiss him. Eddie looked up at Bill, his eyes wide with shock and his eyebrows furrowing. “No! What the fuck? Why?”

  “He’s been stuh - staring at you f - for five minutes, and you’ve been s - s - silent this whole time.” Bill’s ears were turning red and Richie swallowed back his protest. 

  “I’m just confused!” Eddie blabbed, throwing his hands in the air. “I don’t get it! I don’t get  _ him!  _ I don’t see why so many fucking people hate him! I don’t get it! I don’t get this fucking town! It’s  _ bullshit!  _ This is all such bullshit!”

  Richie blinked and he opened his mouth to say something, but it never came out. It came out as a stupid fucking, “Huh.” instead. He shook his head and chuckled, trying to think of a way to make the situation lighter. He moved over and laid down, resting his head on Eddie’s knee. “What can I say, Mama’s Boy? They’re just pissed off because I’m better than them, and they don’t like it. It’s fine, really.”

  “Don’t call me that,” Eddie groaned. He put his hand gently in Richie’s hair and Richie smiled a little.

  “No? How about Eds? Eddie Spaghetti? Eddison?” 

  Eddie gently tugged on Richie’s hair. “Shut up.” They all continued their conversation, Richie cracking jokes when he deemed it necessary and Bill telling him off. It ended, however, when the  _ lovely  _ Bower boys decided to fucking crash their party. 

  “Where’s your dyke?” Henry sneered. “She off fucking one of her dyke friends?” 

  “Dunno. Maybe she’s fucking your mom?” Richie snapped, sitting up too quickly from Eddie’s lap. “Maybe that’s where she went. To wherever Mommy Bowers ran off to!” Richie stood and Bill tried to say his name, but it came out in too many stutters and in not enough time. 

  Henry shoved Richie and that’s when Stan stood up. “Get the  _ fuck  _ away from him,” he snapped. Belch (Whose nickname always made Richie laugh, because his name was fucking  _ Reginald.) _ started laughing and he shoved Stan. Bill was frozen in fear and Richie couldn’t see Eddie from where he was, until a rock zoomed past him and hit Henry in the eye.

  The boy donning the mullet cried out and held his hand to his eye, backing away from Richie. “Run!” Eddie shouted, grabbing Richie’s hand. Richie ignored the way his heart started beating faster. When he  _ couldn’t,  _ he blamed it on the fear. He grabbed Bill’s hand to help him up, who then grabbed Stan’s, and they started running.

  They ran for ten minutes in  _ some  _ direction and ended up at the edge of the woods, then decided they were safe. Richie’s lungs were burning and his ribs were on fire and he thought that he was going to pass out, but the sound of Eddie and Bill laughing pulled him back into reality. “- fucking  _ sick!”  _ Bill threw his arms around Eddie and Richie successfully ignored the thoughts stirring in the back of his mind.

  “Y - You okay, Rich?” Bill asked when he saw Richie staring at them.

  Richie blinked and his lips were parted dumbly for a few moments before he grinned and nodded. “Yeah, man! That was…  _ jesus,  _ Eds, I didn’t realise you had it in you! Mama Boy’s got  _ fire!” _

__ “Never,” Eddie panted out,  _ “ever  _ say anything like that ever again.” Richie laughed and his gaze drifted over to Stan, whose hands were shaking and fingers were twitching. They made eye contact and Richie smiled a little, and it stopped. 

  “Well,” Richie said, testing out his Brand New And Fresh British Man Voice, “I’d reckon tha’ was a good adventcha!”

  “Stop,” Bill groaned, but it was too late. Richie was fucking  _ relentless.  _

__ “Why, William, I’d beg to say tha’ was the bes’ one we eva’ did have!” Richie cried, throwing his right arm around Bill and the other one around Stan. “I love you, boys!” he kissed both of their cheeks and Eddie coughed. “Oh, my  _ dear  _ Eddie Kaspbrak! How could I have eva’ fo’gotten my  _ favourite  _ boy!” He let Bill and Stan go and rushed forward to Eddie, picking him up and spinning him around. When he set Eddie down after he  _ screamed,  _ fuck you, Eddie, he grabbed the shorter boy’s face and pressed his lips to Eddie’s forehead. 

  He blamed the way he could feel Eddie’s heart pounding under his thumbs on the adrenaline. “Shut up,” Eddie mumbled. He shoved Richie away, a bit too harshly, and adjusted his bag back onto his shoulders properly. “I have to go,” he said quickly, then got to running off again. Richie’s heart sank and he stared off after him. 

  “Dude,” Stan said softly. “What’s his problem?” 

  “I don’t know,” Richie replied, his lips barely moving.  _ I did too much,  _ he wanted to say. He didn’t.

* * *

  On Sunday, Richie’s legs were in Stan’s lap, Bill was in the kitchen, and  _ Storage Wars  _ was playing faintly in the background on Stan’s laptop. “I’m glad you could come over,” he said. “My parents like you.”

  “They’ve never met me.” 

  “I’ve talked about you enough,” he replied, looking down at Richie and smiling a little. “I’m not used to having friends. Even if they’re  _ fucking  _ annoying sometimes,” he snickered.

  “Oh, Stanny, you just need to… put yourself out there more.” _With The Friz? No way!_ Richie’s mind rang. He ignored it. “You’re gay, Stan. There has to be a couple dozen chicks just _dying_ for you to be their gay best friend. Go be someone’s arm candy and drop us,” he chuckled. 

  Stan rolled his eyes and slapped Richie’s leg. “Fuck off, I love you assholes too much to let you go. And beside, they’d all shove their tits in my face and ask if I’d go straight for them, and I am  _ not  _ about to deal with that. I’ll stick with you two for now.”  _ And Eddie, if he ever gets the stick out of his ass,  _ he almost added. He didn’t. 

  Richie smiled gratefully before snickering. “You think you’d be able to stick with both of us in  _ bed,  _ Princess?”

  Stan gasped and he slapped Richie’s leg again. “Asshole! I’m not a fucking bottom! I might actually fucking kill you if you go around telling people I am, because I’m  _ not.” _

  Richie shook his head and mumbled, “Sounds fake.” However, sat up and grinned when Bill walked back in. “Bill! My husband! The love of my life! The  _ light  _ of my life! I thought you’d be gone  _ forever!”  _ he cried, reaching his arms out.

  “Sh - Shut up, Richie,” Bill said softly. Stan moved over and Richie moved with him so Bill could sit down and Richie was between them.

  Stan put on some movie (Richie wasn’t paying attention; Stan was playing with his hair and he was half asleep) and Bill stayed on his phone most of the time. When Richie flipped to his other side so he could breathe better, he snuck a look at Bill’s phone.

**Eddie Kaspbrak:** _ I don’t know what I did wrong, though. _

_   you hurt him, Eddie. I know you probably didn’t mean to but what we’re wondering is why you did _

__ **Eddie Kaspbrak:** _ Bill I don’t understand how what I did was wrong or why it hurt him. After that him and Stan started ignoring me. That’s why I came to you. _

_   cornered me in a bathroom and demanded my phone number, you mean _

__ **Eddie Kaspbrak:** _ Yeah, that. _

__ **Eddie Kaspbrak:** _ But my point is, I don’t know why it upset him, so I can’t apologise.  _

__ Richie got light headed and he felt nauseous. He turned back around and buried his face in Stan’s shoulder, sighing and trying to let it go. It kept nipping at the back of his mind until Stan’s hand found its way into his hair, careful to avoid his wound. He drifted off, Bill and Eddie’s conversation drifting out of his mine and instead lingering around his feet to bug him later.

* * *

  Come Monday, Richie Tozier’s bike had been bent in three places, removed of its tires, and the seat was slashed. He had to ride the fucking bus, _again,_ and he arrived to school with a pounding headache. It didn’t help that all the fucking football nuts were running around yelling about their game. He was digging his fingernails into his skin and he pulled his hood up and his headphones weren’t _loud enough._

__ He jumped and made a weird yell-shout-cry-noise  _ thing  _ when someone tapped his shoulder. “The hell do you want?” he snapped as he turned around. He was met with a short blonde girl with too much makeup caked onto her face. Her eyes were every fucking colour of the rainbow and her lipstick was a hot pink that made Richie want to punch her in the fucking face. She had a cute nose, though.

  “I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” she said. There was a moment that Richie was just staring at her before he actually replied.

  “It’s fine. Sorry for snapping. What’d you -”

  “I was wondering if you wanted to join the girl’s volleyball team?” Richie’s stomach dropped. He closed his eyes and clenched his jaw and took a deep breath, doing his best to not have a complete meltdown.  _ She didn’t know. She doesn’t know, none of them know. They think you’re a girl still. The jacket doesn’t help. _

  “No, thank you,” he said through gritted teeth. “I’m not a girl,” he added, his eyes snapping open. She looked surprised and she bit her lip.

  “Oh! Oh, I’m sorry, Greta told me to ask you -”

  “Well, I’m not fucking interested,” Richie snapped. He was about to start yelling until someone came up behind him and threw their arms over his shoulders and squeezed his neck.

  “How’s my  _ boy  _ doing?” Stan asked, grinning. “How was the rise,  _ man?  _ I know your bike got fucked,  _ dude,  _ I’m sorry. Bill told me about it.” Richie had never been tempted more than in that moment to propose to Stan.  _ I love you,  _ he wanted to say. He didn’t.

  “I fucked up! I’m sorry! Jesus, fucking pussy,” the girl mumbled before stomping off. 

  Richie was about to yell after her, but Stan put his hand over Richie’s mouth before he could. “Let’s just go,” he said softly. He grabbed Richie’s wrist and guided him toward the side of the building. “You okay?”

  Richie pulled his jacket tighter around him and nodded. “Yeah. It’s a common mistake,” he laughed darkly. “It’s gonna happen for-fucking-ever, so. I shouldn’t get mad about it, I get it. Sorry that I do.”

  “Shut the fuck up, Richie. It’s okay that you get mad about it. I would too. I wanted to… nevermind, but I’m sorry that you have to go through that,” Stan sighed. He frowned and then stepped closer to Richie, then plucked an eyelash off of his cheek. Richie ignored the way his heart sped up. It reminded him of how it sped up when he saw Eddie. He didn’t like that feeling anymore. 

  Richie immediately regretted ignoring it, because God decided to go against everything he’d worked towards. Eddie was walking in their direction, then running, then Richie froze. When Eddie was in front of them, he didn’t say anything. He didn’t crack a joke, he didn’t grin and greet him, he didn’t even ask if he was okay. Time was stopped, and all Richie could hear was his own heartbeat.  _ Bum. Bum. Bum Bum. Bumbum. Bumbumbumbum.  _ “Hey, Mama’s boy,” he forced. Time started again.  _ Bum. _

__ “Richie,” Eddie said, as if he was giving a speech. It made Richie chuckle a bit, thinking about little Eddie Kaspbrak in an oversized suit giving a political speech about… bees, or something.  _ Bum.  _ “I’m… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you think I was angry. I was being stupid and I realised that I had to get home, and I should have -”  _ Bum.  _ “- been more vocal.”

  Stan’s hands balled into fists. He started to say something, angrily, but Richie cut him off.

  “It’s fine, Mama’s Boy. I was doing too much. Not everyone loves me immediately, I guess. Your fault, not mine,” he laughed.  _ My fault. Not yours,  _ he wanted to say. He didn’t.

__ Eddie bit his lip and nodded slowly. “We cool? Stan, we cool?”

  Richie grinned and went to throw his arm around Eddie, but pulled it back to his side. “We’re alright!” he said, British again, “I seem to think so, at least! C’mon, Stanny Boy, whaddya’ think? Don’t be a prude, now!” 

  Stan pursed his lips before nodding. “Yeah,” he said, hesitant. “Yeah,” he repeated, more confidently. “Sure.” Richie was at peace, but he couldn’t help but feel the tension still surrounding the three of them. Bill came around the corner, and Richie had only been as happy to see him as he was once. However, that was dropped when he saw Beverly trailing behind him. She had dark circles under her eyes and her neck looked bruised and rage filled Richie’s body again.

  He rushed forward and enveloped her in his arms. He held the back of her head to his chest and she held him tightly, and then she whispered, “I’m here.” He closed his eyes and sighed shakily, his hands trembling a little. “You’re here,” he repeated against the top of her head. “You’re safe?”

  “I will be.”


	3. In Which Eddie Kaspbrak Fucks Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was something between him and Eddie that made Richie not care about the pain in his ribs or how hard it was for him to breathe. He ended up being the last to leave, after Mike. Him, Mike, and Eddie were sitting in Eddie’s backyard, watching the stars. Mike was between Richie and Eddie, and his and Richie’s pinkies were laced together. When he left, Richie swore he squeezed his hand before getting up. He ignored it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: there’s a fight scene, and richie ends up throwing up at one point.

  Richie couldn’t meet Eddie’s eyes. He didn’t know what it was, and he didn’t know what was going on, but something told him he shouldn’t. It had been four days since Bev came back and Eddie apologised and Ben spilled milk all over himself at Stan’s house after school. It had been three days since Richie cried his eyes out in his room because he couldn’t stop thinking about how  _ hurt  _ and  _ pissed off  _ Eddie must have been that everyone blamed  _ him.  _ It had been two days since they found Mike Hanlon crouching behind a dumpster and brought him to Bill’s house and cleaned out his wounds and asked him if he needed people to stick around with. It had been  _ one  _ day since Richie’s dysphoria started flaring up and started wearing a tank top under his binder again. 

  It was Friday and it was lunchtime and it was Stan’s laughing that pulled him back into the world. Bev had told some joke about cigarettes and cancer or something, and Stan found everything Bev said to be fucking  _ hilarious.  _ Richie didn’t understand. Granted, he did, too, but he didn’t understand himself why she was so amazing.

  Her bruises had faded and the bounce was back in her step and the light was back in her eyes. Richie noticed a new burn on her hand on Wednesday, which she blamed on still-lit ashes falling from her cigarette, but Richie knew better. He knew his Beverly, and she wouldn’t be that stupid. Richie laughed (he didn’t know what at) and put his hand on Bev’s shoulder. “Miss Marsh,” he said, “you are  _ truly  _ a work of art.”

  She chuckled at that and tugged at a piece of his hair. “Shut up. Oh, Stan!” she and Stan started talking again, which gave Richie room to zone out. He kept thinking about how Eddie stopped wearing his fanny pack and his hair was less gelled every time they saw him and he wondered  _ why.  _ He wanted to ask, and he would have, had he not been fucking  _ terrified  _ of what would happen if he did. He couldn’t even look Eddie in the eye, how was he supposed to ask him something like that?

  He ran a hand through his hair and listened in on people talking.  _ “I don’t know why she’s here,”  _ someone said.  _ “Her and Marsh usually stay in the bathroom.”  _ Someone else said,  _ “The Jew’s pretty cute… no, not the one with the curls. The new one. He’s not? Oh… What’s his name again? Eddie?”  _ Richie’s stomach rumbled. It wasn’t because he was hungry, no. He was pissed off.  _ Eddie. Eddie. His name is Eddie. _

_   Eddie,  _ he tried to say.  _ Eddie. Eddie? Eddie… Eddie. Eddie!  _ He couldn’t get it out. His lips wouldn’t even part to allow a whisper. His body was telling him  _ not  _ to talk to Eddie.  _ Don’t look at him,  _ it said. He ignored it. He looked up at Eddie and straight into his eyes, and that’s when he saw it. Eddie’s eyes were bright and wide and he was staring back at Richie. Neither of them looked away. Richie couldn’t read Eddie. He couldn’t  _ fucking  _ read Eddie. 

  He was going to talk to Eddie. He smiled a little and opened his mouth to ask him why he’d dropped the fanny pack, but he stopped. Eddie’s eyes turned cold. He clenched his jaw, closed his stupid fucking lunchbox – that  _ stupid  _ fucking  _ lunchbox – _ and got up. “I have to go study,” he said, harshly, and left. Bev stared off at him and frowned. Stan was about to call after him, but he took  _ one  _ glance at Richie and decided against it. Richie’s eyes were glazed over, his bottom lip was quivering, and his eyebrows were drawn.

  “Rich -”

  “Mama’s Boy needs to study,” Richie chuckled softly, forcing a grin and looking at Stan. “He’s too busy thinking about how much he loves me to pay attention in class.” 

  Richie pretended to not notice the way Beverly pressed her knee against his. The way Stan shifted  _ just  _ so to make his elbow touch Richie’s. The fact that he had one, no,  _ three  _ new friends. He had Bev and Bill, of course, and he had Stan and Ben and Mike. He wanted Eddie, though. He  _ wanted Eddie.  _ Eddie was fine with Richie saying he was in love with him forty seconds after they had met, he was fine with being affectionate at first, he was fucking  _ fine  _ with holding hands and running away from bullies together.

_ Why wasn’t he fine with Richie?  _

* * *

  Bev was curled up against Ben, Eddie was talking quietly with Mike about something, and Bill and Stan were talking about their project for Psych. Richie felt invasive, he felt out of place, like he was a huge water stain on an otherwise smooth, white ceiling. He kept to himself, scrolling mindlessly through his phone and trying to ignore the thoughts crawling into the back of his head.

_ They hate you. Eddie and Mike are talking about you. Neither of them like you. You made fun of Mike’s overalls, and Eddie hates you. Bill and Stan? They’re working on a way to drop you without hurting you.  _ “Richie?” Bill’s voice cut through the silence and everyone looked over at him. When Richie looked up, him and Eddie made eye contact again. Eddie looked away. 

  Richie sighed softly and he grinned at Bill. “That’s my name, don’t wear it out.”

  “I was wuh – wondering what you wanted to watch tonight?” Bill asked quietly, carefully. Richie didn’t understand why.

  “Uh… I don’t care. Maybe Mama’s Boy can pick? Or Milk Man,” he mumbled.

  Eddie didn’t say anything, but Ben chuckled out a, “Hey!” Richie grinned at him, a toothy grin that he swore made Ben’s ears pink. He ignored it. Eddie rolled his eyes and turned back to Mike, trying to get his attention again, but Mike’s eyes were trained on Richie. Eddie tugged on his sleeve and his gaze broke. 

  Stan was about to yell at Eddie, Richie could tell, so he cut in. “Maybe we could watch Ghostbusters or some shit?” He looked at Stan, and they made eye contact. Stan nodded. Richie didn’t need to use words.

  Bill grinned and nodded. “Uh… okay. C – Can you go get it?”

  “By  _ myself?”  _

  “I’ll help!” Stan and Mike said at the same time. Mike grinned at Stan, but Eddie whined softly. “You have to help me with this!” His voice cracked a little and Richie’s heart skipped a beat. 

  Bill stood and shook his his head.  _ “I’ll  _ go,” he said. He helped Richie up off of the bed and pulled him down the stairs. “Richie,” he said, quietly. “Are you okay?”

  Richie frowned and nodded. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “You’re sp – spuh – spacey. Whuh – What’s going on in there?” he grabbed Richie’s hand and Richie sighed softly.

  “Nothing, I just… I don’t get why Eddie hates me now.”

  “Rich, he duh – duh – doesn’t hate y – y – y –”

  “Yeah, Bill,” Richie sighed. He let go of Bill’s hand and smacked the back of his head on Bill’s wall. “Yeah, he does. And I don’t fucking understand what I did  _ wrong.”  _ He felt tears welling up. He ignored it.

  Bill stepped forward and he cupped the back of Richie’s head. “You’re gonna get h - hurt,” he whispered. “Y – Y – You’ll start buh – bluh – bleeding again.” 

  Bill’s hand felt fitted for Richie’s head. He sighed shakily and shook his head. “I don’t get it,” he said, his voice small and almost inaudible. “What did I do  _ wrong?  _ He was fine with me, a – and then he just fucking cut me off. I don’t get it, Bill. I don’t fucking –” his voice cracked and his throat swelled up and a tear fell. And then two. And then he was crying properly, his head buried in the crook of Bill’s neck, Bill’s arms protecting him from the rest of the world. Bill didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. 

  Until he decided to. “You didn’t do anything,” he murmured, kissing the top of Richie’s head. He pet Richie’s hair down and sighed shakily, anger and concern and a million other emotions filling him at once. “He’s just being an asshole because he doesn’t want to give you a ch – chance, Rich. You didn’t do anything wrong. You hear me?  _ You didn’t do anything wrong.” _

__ Richie gripped Bill’s shirt and he huffed a little, trying to calm himself down. Bill smelled like weird cologne he couldn’t place, and fruit. He always smelled like fruit.  _ What fruit is that? Is that cherries? It’s cherries, isn’t it?  _ “Cherries,” he mumbled against Bill’s shoulder. Bill chuckled softly and he eased Richie off of him, cupping his face. He wiped away the tears that fell after, and there were no more. Richie smiled up at him, and Bill smiled back. 

  “There you are,” he whispered. His eyes flicked down to Richie’s lips. Richie’s eyes were trained on Bill’s. Bill leaned in and kissed Richie softly, his hands still resting on either side of Richie’s face. He pulled away and smiled again. “Let’s g – go get the movie.”

* * *

  October twenty-first. It was Eddie’s birthday. Him and the others had become closer; Richie didn’t tell Bev what was going on, and Mike and Ben had no clue in the first place. They were gathered around Eddie’s room in a circle, a box in the middle and seven plates laid out with seven forks on the right side of each one. _Seven,_ Richie thought. _Seven of us. Seven plated. Seven forks. Lucky Seven._

  Richie jumped when he heard Mike say, “I made it myself.” He blinked himself back into reality and looked around. “Sorry if the icing is shit.”

  Eddie laughed. Richie’s chest felt tight. “I bet it’s amazing, Mike. Seriously, thank you guys so much.” He grinned and Richie’s chest felt tighter. “You all mean so much to me, I… I don’t know what I’d do without you guys. And I’m sorry for upsetting you, if I have.” Him and Richie made eye contact. Eddie didn’t look away. He mouthed a gentle, “Later,” and looked back at everyone else. Richie’s heart started pounding and he laughed loudly. 

  “Mama’s Boy’s gettin’ all gay and happy on us now, is he?” he snickered, his voice British and shaky. 

  Eddie rolled his eyes and chuckled. “Don’t call me that, assbag.” When him and Eddie made eye contact again, there was none of the disgusted nature that he had seen before. No hate, no judgement. Nothing that scared Richie. There was a moment where something flashed in his eyes, and it made Richie’s heart speed up. 

  Mike kept his eyes on Richie and Eddie, flickering back between them. He looked at Bill, who nodded, and then he went back to grinning and made a joke about chickens. 

  The rest of the evening went fine. There was something between him and Eddie that made Richie not care about the pain in his ribs or how hard it was for him to breathe. He ended up being the last to leave, after Mike. Him, Mike, and Eddie were sitting in Eddie’s backyard, watching the stars. Mike was between Richie and Eddie, and his and Richie’s pinkies were laced together. When he left, Richie swore he squeezed his hand before getting up. He ignored it. 

  “Richie?” Eddie’s voice was soft and it made Richie’s heart flutter. 

  “Yeah?” he replied, turning onto his side. Eddie was looking at him. 

  “I’m sorry.” He scooted closer to Richie and Richie’s heart started racing. “I’ve… I’ve been an asshole. And I know it’s not okay,” his voice was quiet, but sure. Like he’d rehearsed it. “I don’t think I’ve ever been more sorry about…  _ anything.  _ I… can I explain myself? If not, and if you don’t want to forgive me, that’s okay.”

  Richie frowned. “Eddie, I…” There was a silence that was broken with a loud  _ CLAP!  _ followed by rain. Richie shrieked and Eddie shot up, grabbed his hand, and ran with him back inside. Richie was already soaked and he was shaking. 

  “Rich, you okay?” Eddie was close to Richie. Their chests were touching.  _ Chests. Binder. Wet.  _ “Richie?” A hand was on his shoulder. “Shit, can you breathe? Richie, go take your binder off.”

  “I can’t,” Richie said quietly. “I can’t,” he repeated, louder. His head was light.

  “Richie, you’re swaying. Here, just…” Eddie looked around and grabbed a hoodie that had been hanging on the back of a chair. “Go put this on. It’s a couple sizes too big for me, it should be big on you, too. You know where my room is, I’ll be in there. Go get dry, you’re gonna get sick.” Richie hesitated but nodding, something in the back of his mind that was pulsing taking a rest. Eddie guided him to the bathroom and then left. Richie made sure to lock the door three times, then still stood with his back to it for a good minute or two.

  He took a deep breath and peeled his jacket off, then his shirt, and he looked in the mirror. His usually light grey binder was dark and dripping water and clinging to the little pudge on his stomach more than usual. He sighed softly, turned around, and pulled it up over his head. He quickly pulled the hoodie on and was grateful for the two extra Xs tacked on. He scooped his clothes up and hesitantly left the bathroom, making his way to Eddie’s room.

  “Where should I…?”

  “Just put them on the floor, I guess,” Eddie said quietly. Richie did as he was told and crossed his arms over his chest when he sat on Eddie’s bed. “Okay. Um… can I try to explain myself?” Richie nodded and Eddie cleared his throat. “I don’t know what it was. When you kissed me, I just got… really pissed off.  _ Too  _ pissed off. And I know that isn’t fair. We had been doing fine before. Fucking hell, I’d… cradled you in my arms a few hours before,” he chuckled a little, sad. “I didn’t know what to feel.” 

  Richie shook his head and he ran a hand through his hair. “It’s fine, Eddie, really –”

  “No, it isn’t. Every time we looked at each other, you looked so fucking _upset,_ Rich –” _Rich._ “– and it’s my fault. It’s… fuck, I can’t remember what I called. It’s like homophobia, but toward yourself? That. It… I don’t know why I started feeling like that. And it isn’t your fault! It isn’t.” Eddie looked at the floor and he sighed softly. He looked less tense than he had in the morning. “I’m still figuring out what went wrong,” he said. “I don’t like being like this. You and Stan were the first friends I made, and because of me being stupid, I ruined that. So… I… I don’t know what this means. I don’t think I have a crush on you, I barely fucking know you.” _Crush._ “I think it’s just the actual, physical _contact_ with a guy, you know?”

  Richie nodded slowly and he looked up at the ceiling.  _ He thinks of me as a guy. He doesn’t think I’m a girl.  _ “I know.” He jumped when Eddie’s hand touched his.  _ Warm.  _

  “I’m sorry.” Eddie was looking straight into his eyes. His eyes were a little glossy, and  _ Richie’s _ started to gloss over. Bill’s words from a few days prior rang in his head faintly. “I really am. You don’t have to forgive me, but…”

  “I do!” Richie said quickly. “I do,” he repeated, softer. “I’m sorry. I know I did too much, but –”

_ “No,”  _ Eddie cut in. “You didn’t.  _ I  _ did too much. His voice was soft and his nose was half an inch away from Richie’s. Richie’s breath hitched and he looked down at Eddie’s lips. “Do you want to stay here tonight?” Eddie asked. Richie closed his eyes and nodded. Eddie’s hand lingered on Richie’s before he got up. “I’ll go get the air mattress.” Richie started to stand, but Eddie shook his head. “Don’t. It’s for me. And  _ don’t  _ argue, please. Just let me do this.” When Eddie was done filling the air mattress, Richie realised there was a scar on his bicep he hadn’t noticed before.

  “What’s that from?” he asked quietly, rubbing at his eyes. “The… the scar. On your arm?”

  “Wh –  _ oh.  _ I fell out of a tree when I was a kid,” he mumbled.  _ No, you didn’t,  _ Richie wanted to say. He didn’t. 

* * *

  Richie leaned his head against Bill’s shoulder, his eyes fluttering between open and closed. He’d spent the night at Bill’s on Sunday on account of drunk parents, and he’d stayed up until three in the morning reading. Bill would’ve usually just ridden his bike to school, but Richie wouldn’t fit on with him anymore.

  When they got to the school, Richie let his sneakers scuff against the pavement and he basically hung off of Bill. “I sh – shouldn’t have l – luh – let you stay uh – up so late,” Bill groaned. Richie moaned in response and kept his eyes half closed. He jumped a little when a car door slammed and he heard voices that vaguely sounded like Mike and Eddie getting louder and louder, but it couldn’t have been. Mike never yelled. 

  Bill manoeuvred for the both of them until he found Stan, who was running around and looked like he was about to cry. “Stan?” Richie mumbled. He frowned a little and threw his arms around Stan, hugging him lazily and sighing. “I love you, man. You’re so nice. And you smell good.”

  Stan raised his eyebrows and patted Richie’s back. “Yeah… are you okay, Rich?”

  Richie nodded, but he wasn’t sure if he was telling the truth. He wasn’t sure if he was just tired or still overthinking the fact that Eddie could have been lying to him.

  Neither was Stan.

  Stan looked over at the car where the yelling was coming from and he zoned out a little. He squeezed Richie in his arms and stood up a little bit straighter.  _ Mike’s pissed,  _ he wanted to say. He didn’t.

* * *

  Walking into third period Algebra, with girls who talked shit about him constantly, dudes who looked down at him as if he was the scum of the earth, and some girl who’d been crushing on Richie for years was easier than it had been since… ever. He walked in, took his spot next to Stan, and grinned. “Stan. Stanny. Staniel. Stan The Man –”

_ “What,  _ Richie?” Stan snapped. Richie frowned a little and Stan rubbed his hands over his face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap, I just… long day yesterday. I’m sorry.”

  Richie shook his head and smiled again. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “No,” Stan said shortly. “What did you want to tell me?”

  “Eddie and I made up,” Richie declared, his lips stretching into a grin. Stan frowned and clicked his tongue. 

  “No, you didn’t,” he chuckled. When Richie’s face dropped, he frowned even more. “You  _ did?”  _

  Richie nodded and his right hand started picking at his left thumb. “Yeah… I spent the night at his house on Saturday,” he mumbled. He looked over at the door and then at Eddie’s empty seat and then sighed softly. “Why did you think we didn’t?”

  “Well, I h – doesn’t matter. I’m glad you two made up.”  _ Heard. He was going to say heard. What did he hear?  _ “It’s good. That’s good. So he  _ wasn’t  _ an asshole?”  _ What did he hear? What did Eddie say?  _ Richie’s hands started trembling and Stan frowned. “Richie, what’s –”

  “What did you hear?” Richie asked slowly.

  Stan hesitated before sighing and saying, “Mike and Eddie were talking. And Mike seemed… not himself. He’s usually really bubbly and smiley, right?” Richie nodded. “Not then. He looked…  _ mad.  _ Confused. And he was talking loudly. He wasn’t yelling, but he was… aggressively speaking to Eddie. And I heard your name. When Mike brought you up, Eddie looked all pissed off and he stormed away.” Stan licked his lips and looked at Richie. “Mike told me they were talking about how he was acting to you. Eddie told him he apologised to you, and that that should be enough.”

  “That’s who was yelling,” Richie said quietly. Stan nodded slowly and looked back down. 

  “I shouldn’t have said anything. I’m sorry.”

  When Eddie walked into the room, Richie was hit with the same feeling he’d had a few weeks prior. His body was telling him not to look at Eddie, not to even think about him. So he didn’t.

  All Richie could think about while he was walking to lunch was the way Eddie had looked at him in class. He looked like he  _ wanted  _ to say something, but like he knew that Richie knew he wasn’t fucking sorry at all. He’d apologised and been nice to save his own ass. When Eddie left the room, before anyone else, he didn’t even glance at Richie. 

  Richie kept his eyes on the floor and his body small and his voice  _ off.  _ Bev was at his side suddenly, saying something about Eddie, and he tried to drown it out. He tried to keep her out of his head until he heard,  _ “Bill’s bleeding.”  _ His head snapped up and his eyes went wide and his stomach dropped. 

  It was like he was in a fucking movie. People started suddenly  _ running  _ to the doors and there were phones out and people were screaming and laughing and it was overwhelming, but all Richie was focused on was what he had heard and what his brain was filtering in from trying to block her out. He shoved through everyone, ignoring Bev’s calls for him, and made it outside. He ran along with the crowd and when Richie made it to the front, he felt sick. Eddie and Bill were both covered in blood and Bill’s eye was swollen and Eddie’s foot was twisted in a direction Richie didn’t think was possible. 

  Richie couldn’t move. He tried to, and he couldn’t.  _ Bill  _ couldn’t move. He was trying to sit up, but he kept falling. Everything happened too quickly. Teachers were yelling. there was an ambulance siren, the school’s deputy was holding people back – it seemed like something from a shitty viral video. Richie found himself in Beverly’s arms after. He didn’t know how quick everything had happened. It could have been an hour. Could have been thirty seconds. All he knew was that one minute he was staring at his Bill’s body just fucking  _ laying  _ there, and the next, he was vomiting into the bushes next to a table with peoples’ names carved in it.

  He barely heard the, “Richard Tozier?” and the soft, collective, “oooohhhh…” or the way Bill’s voice cracked when he called out for Richie. He barely heard the, “You can go with him, but we need to speak to a parent, first.” He barely heard the, “Richie…” that came from Eddie.  _ But he did.  _

* * *

  In the waiting room, Richie stared at the ceiling blankly. A fat woman came in not long after him, demanding to see her son, and Richie laughed a little. _Mama’s Boy…_ ran through his mind. He ignored it. She was followed by Bill’s parents and a policeman Richie didn’t recognise. He stayed, however, tucked in his corner of the waiting room. His phone buzzed, and the video he opened it to made his stomach churn.

_ “I think Stuttering Bill and New Kid are about to get into it.” _

_   “Shut up, man!” _

_   “What the fuck is your problem?” Bill spat, his hands clenched at his sides.  _

_   “I’m sorry?” _

_   “You fuh – fucking know what I’m talking about.” _

_   “Actually, I don’t. Care to enlighten me, King Denbrough? The fucking God of everything?” _

_   “Why the hell are you b – being a d – duh – dick to Richie?” _

_   Eddie froze. One of the guys behind the camera snickered. “I’m not. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” _

_   “You fucking hurt him. Why? Because you don’t like him? Be – Because you  _ do  _ like him and you’re too fuh – fucking scared to admit it? Give me a fucking answer!” _

_   “Oh, shit,” the other one whispered.  _ Richie wanted to smack both of them.  _ “He’s going for it.” _

_   “He was being fucking annoying!” Eddie snapped.  _ Richie had to keep himself from turning it off there.  _ “He was acting all fucking…  _ gay,  _ and shit! And I didn’t fucking tell him he could do that!” _

_   “Who was th – the one who  _ cradled  _ him when he got hit? Who – Who fucking held his hand as you guys ruh – ruh – ran? You know, you’re a real asshole, Eddie Kaspbrak.” _

_   “At least my brother isn’t fucking dead!” Bill’s face fell as soon as the words left Eddie’s mouth. Eddie could tell he had fucked up, too, because as soon as he said it, he stood up. When he stood up, though, Bill smashed his fist into his face.  _

_   The two behind the camera went, “Oh, shit!” at the same time. It cut there, but the other video was just Eddie and Bill punching the shit out of each other. Bill fell, and then Eddie did, and then – _

__ Richie had to stop. His hands were trembling again, and he didn’t trust himself to move without throwing up again. He took a deep breath and closed his phone, trying to ignore the tears welling up in his eyes. He couldn’t. He pressed the balls of his hands into his eyes and tried to hold them back. Again, he couldn’t. 

  Richie Tozier was sat in the corner of the emergency room crying his eyes out. None of his friends were there to help. Bill was fucking…  _ somewhere,  _ getting  _ something  _ done to him. Stan was stuck at school, staring out the window and trying to ignore all of the questions he was getting bombarded with. Beverly was on her way to the hospital, but Richie didn’t know that. He didn’t know that she was bringing a blanket and some goldfish and that they were going to stay there until they found out what happened to Bill.

  He didn’t know that Bill had to have surgery.


	4. In Which Mike Hanlon Saves The Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richie’s fingers wouldn’t stop fluttering. His fingers were fluttering together and, “They make a sound like a hummingbird’s wings,” Stan told him. His knee wouldn’t stop bouncing and Stan had to kick his foot to get him to slow it down. Tennineeightsevensixfivefourthreetwo – brrrring! Richie shot up out of his seat and ran for the door. “Richie! Wait!” he heard. He didn’t listen. He ran down the hallway, much to the disdain of the upperclassmen, out the door, and – nothing.

  Richie was woken up by Beverly shaking his shoulder and telling him they could finally see him. It took him a minute to wake up, but when he realised what she was saying, he shot out of his seat and they started their run to Bill’s room. Richie didn’t care about the burning of his lungs or the way his knees felt like jello or how many nurses yelled at him, he  _ had  _ to see Bill. When they finally got to Bill’s room, he flung the door open and rushed forward to hug him immediately. Bill groaned in pain (for multiple reasons), but hugged him back as tight as he could.

  “Bill,” Richie whispered. He kept his face pressed against Bill’s neck and Bill’s hospital gown balled in his fists.  _ “Bill,”  _ he repeated breathlessly. He squeezed his eyes shut and sighed shakily. “You fucking idiot.” 

  “Richie, it h – huh – hurts,” Bill mumbled. 

_ “Good,”  _ Bev cut in. “What the hell, Bill? You got the shit beaten out of you, and you needed fucking  _ surgery –” _

__ “No,” he said. He shook his head and started rubbing small circles on Richie’s back. “My ap – puh – pendix ruh – ruh – rup – ruh –”

  Bev sighed and pursed her lips. “Still.” Richie squeezed Bill’s gown in his hand and forced himself to pull away. He pulled the chair closer to Bill’s bed and grabbed his hand, lacing their fingers together. He pressed his cheek against the rail and shivered. “You’re fucking stupid, Bill. You’re an idiot, and you’re gonna get suspended. I won’t be surprised if you get fucking  _ expelled.” _

__ “My puh – parents already talked to the cops, Bev.” Bill squeezed Richie’s hand. “I’m gonna b – b – be fuh – fine. I’m suspended for a week, but –”

  “A  _ week?  _ How the hell am I supposed to survive a fucking  _ week  _ without you?”

  “Thanks,” Bev laughed. 

  Richie rolled his eyes and sighed, rubbing his free hand over his forehead. “And Eddie?”

  “He’s suspended for three days, but –”

_ “Three days?”  _

__ “Bev –”

  “Three fucking days? He almost fucking  _ killed you,  _ Bill. You do fucking realise that, right? You almost fucking died. I don’t think you have any room to be all high and –”

  “He broke his foot. I… my ap – apuh – ah –” his chest heaved and Richie squeezed his hand. Bill took a deep breath before continuing. “He didn’t  _ help  _ it, but he wasn’t wh – why I had to guh – get surgery.” 

  A gentle knock on the door and a kind face popping in interrupted them. “Hey. Richie, is it? And Beverly? Your parents are here to pick you up. Billy needs to take his meds and get some rest.” 

  Richie clenched his jaw and squeezed Bill’s hand again. He brought it up to his lips and whispered, “Good luck.” He hugged Bill as carefully as possible, which made  _ both  _ of them groan (Richie’s ribs suffering after too many hours with his binder and Bill’s chest over-strained), and they left. Richie tried to ignore when he heard someone say his name. He couldn’t tell who it was, but he didn’t feel like dealing with it if it happened to be Eddie. 

  It wasn’t. 

  “Richie.” Stan threw his arms around Richie and pulled him close. Richie didn’t care that he was suffocating. Stan smelled clean, but not like the hospital clean, and he was warm, and he was  _ safe.  _ Everything hit Richie at once, and he started to cry.  _ They fought because of me. Bill almost died because of me. Eddie broke his foot because of me. They’ll never be friends because of me. Eddie won’t have any friends because of me. He never will. Not  _ good  _ ones, anyway.  _ “Richie,” Stan repeated. “Come back to us, come on.” 

_ Bill told him how to bring me back. Bill told him how to bring me… Bill told him how to bring… Bill told him how to… Bill told him how… Bill told him… Bill… Bill. Bill’s hurting.  _ A firm grip on Richie’s hair brought him back. “Rich,” Bev said quietly. She wasn’t trying to get his attention. She was letting him ground himself with her. She wrapped her arms around him from behind and they sat there, sandwiched together in the middle of the hallway. Richie was shaking between them, Stan was petting his hair, and Bev was rubbing small circles on Stan’s shoulder as thanks.

* * *

 

  Richie’s head was in Stan’s lap and his legs were in Beverly’s. Stan’s fingers were tangled loosely in his hair, Bev’s fingers were tapping against his legs, and  _ Breakfast Club  _ was on Stan’s TV. “So, okay. Let me get this straight,” Stan said. “Eddie –” Richie tensed up. “– is suspended for three days. And Bill is for a  _ week?” _

__ Bev shrugged and she rolled her eyes. “It’s fucking stupid. But I guess Bill  _ did  _ start it, so. And Eddie broke his foot. But this is fucking ridiculous, I can’t… god. That’s bullshit.” 

  Richie cut in with, “Did you finish the homework?” It actually meant,  _ “I feel really fucking bad because of this and I’m gonna ask you to stop,”  _ but he decided on the former instead. Stan shook his head and he curled Richie’s hair around his finger. He let his head fall back and closed his eyes. Richie’s breath hitched when someone knocked on Stan’s front door. Bev pushed Richie’s legs off of hers and he whined, curling up a little more. 

  “Who is it?” Stan called after her, craning his neck to try to see the door. 

  There was some murmuring before she called out, “Mike and Ben!” Stan told her to let them in and Richie smiled a little. He sat up a little too quickly, making his head rush and his cheeks flush. When Ben saw Richie, he started blushing, and Richie frowned.  _ Why does he get like that around me?  _ He set it aside in his head for later. 

  Mike and Ben took their places on the loveseat and Mike hesitated before asking, “Did you guys see Bill yesterday?”

  Richie shook his head. “His parents won’t let anyone go over. Apparently  _ especially  _ me, which is biphobia, and I won’t stand for it.”

  “Or maybe because you’ll break him?” Ben laughed a little. “Richie, we love you, but we all know you’d actually crush him. You haven’t seen him for a week.”

  “And it’ll probably be a week more.”

  “A week more?” Richie turned to Stan, his face screwed up. “Who the  _ fuck  _ says it like that?”

  Stan was about to reply with something witty, but Mike cut in. “I think he’ll be allowed to see us –”  _ Us…  _ “– in a couple days. He was in the hospital healing for a while, it shouldn’t be too long here. And he needs someone to refill his meds when his parents aren’t home and take him his homework and shit.”

  “I don’t think he has homework, Mike. He’s suspended.” 

  “Wait – seriously?” Mike furrowed his brows. “Why?”

  “He kind of beat the heck out of someone, Mike,” Ben said quietly. Richie’s hands balled up into fists. “Eddie’s foot broke, and I think his nose –” 

  Richie stood quickly. “I’m gonna go get water!” he said, louder than he thought it’d be. He beelined for the kitchen and slammed his back against the wall, burying his face in his hands. He started to slide down the wall and eventually he made contact with the floor. He pulled his knees up to his chest and put his head between his knees, trying to steady his breathing.  _ One. Onetwo. Onetwo three. Onetwo threefour. Onetwothree four five.  _ He tried to focus on counting, on getting the numbers to not blur together, trying to think of anything to get his mind off of Bill and Eddie and the blood and the blood and  _ the blood – _

  Richie jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder and he looked up to see Mike through blurry eyes he hadn’t noticed before. “Richie,” Mike whispered. “Are you okay?” 

  “I – He – Bill – My –”

  Mike shook his head and slid down next to Richie. “It isn’t your fault, Richie.” Richie sighed shakily and pressed the balls of his hands into his eyes. “It’s  _ not.  _ Eddie was being childish, and he hurt you.”  _ Mike doesn’t lie. Why is he saying this?  _ “Richie. Tell me you’re listening.” Richie nodded slowly. “With words.”

  “I’m listening,” Richie said softly. They kept at the conversation, mostly one-sided, but it  _ helped.  _ Richie calmed down and his breathing levelled out. “I’m sorry.”

  “Why? Come on.” He stood up and held out his hand to help Richie up. 

  “For freaking out like that. Bill was my first real friend, and he’s my  _ best  _ friend, and it’s… it kind of is my fault. It’s mostly his, I know, but me doing what I did to Eddie… I should have had boundaries.” Richie pulled his sleeves over his hands and let his eyes focus on a ceramic chicken on Stan’s counter. 

  “What  _ you  _ did to  _ Eddie?  _ What about what Eddie did to  _ you,  _ Richie? He lied to you. He tried to make you trust him for his own goddamn ego, and –”

  “I know you defended me, too,” Richie cut in quietly. “Stan told me.”

  Mike paused, thinking over what to say next. When he couldn’t come up with something intelligent quick enough, he just sighed and said, “Yeah. My dad was dropping him off, and I got pissed because he saw you and…”  _ And what? And what? And what? And –  _ “he did this, like,  _ noise?  _ I don’t know what it was. But he seemed irritated, and I asked him if you guys had actually made up, and he got all quiet.”

  Richie nodded and Mike shook his head. “It doesn’t matter, Richie. What matters is that Bill didn’t deserve what happened, and neither did you. Did Eddie? Maybe.” They both looked at each other for a few seconds before bursting into laughter. One of Richie’s hands was pressed against the wall and the other was covering his mouth to try to hide his laugh. When they calmed down, Mike sighed softly and he turned to the pantry. He wrangled a water bottle out of the case of twenty, threw it to Richie, and left. 

  Richie stared at the water bottle and the stupid tree on the paper wrapped around it.  _ You didn’t deserve what happened,  _ he told himself. He thought it over. He thought over how he had taken his binder off and slept in Eddie’s bed. The way Eddie  _ looked  _ when he apologised. How his eyes looked glossy, like he was about to cry, but the whole thing felt  _ too  _ real.  _ Too  _ rehearsed.  _ You didn’t deserve what happened,  _ he told himself again. For once, he believed it.

* * *

  Richie’s fingers wouldn’t stop fluttering. His fingers were fluttering together and, “They make a sound like a hummingbird’s wings,” Stan told him. His knee wouldn’t stop bouncing and Stan had to kick his foot to get him to slow it down. _Tennineeightsevensixfivefourthreetwo – brrrring!_ Richie shot up out of his seat and _ran_ for the door. “Richie! _Wait!”_ he heard. He didn’t listen. He ran down the hallway, much to the disdain of the upperclassmen, out the door, and – nothing.

  He frowned and looked around, trying to spot Bill. He stood on his toes, walked around a little, and then stopped. “R –  _ Richie,”  _ Stan panted out. He grabbed Richie’s shoulder and huffed a little. “He couldn’t come. I thought he told you.”

  “My phone’s dead,” Richie said quickly.  _ “Fuck,  _ Stan, I –” he was cut off by a hoard of people rushing past them and to one spot. He and Stan looked at each other. Richie’s eyes were wide and hopeful, and Stan sighed before grabbing Richie’s hand to run with him. What they were met with was Ben, on the ground, covered in…  _ something.  _ Neither of them could place it, but it smelled rancid, and Ben looked like he was on the verge of tears. People were laughing and taking pictures, and Richie’s blood was boiling, but he knew he couldn’t  _ do  _ anything. They’d get him, too. 

  Stan The Fucking Man Uris, however, didn’t give a shit about what people did to him. So, he let go of Richie’s hand. He stood up straight, cleared his throat, and yelled,  _ “Henry Bowers is a fucking pussy!”  _ Everyone turned to them. “Yeah,” Stan said softly. He cleared his throat before speaking again. “Yeah,” he said, louder, “I said it. He’s a fucking pussy. You ever wonder  _ why  _ his ego’s so big? He’s obviously compensating. I’d venture to say that his  _ grades  _ are in better shape than his cock, and, well,  _ that’s  _ saying something.”   


  Ben stared up at Stan and his eyes were fucking shining. “The  _ fuck  _ did you just call me?” Bowers stood slowly and Richie could see that Stan’s hands were shaking, but he stood his ground and just stood up straighter, even when Henry was right in front of him. 

  “I’d suggest,” he said slowly, “you leave my friends the  _ fuck  _ alone.”

  “What’re you gonna do? Attack me, too?” Henry cooed. Stan’s hands balled up into fists, and Richie furrowed his eyebrows.  _ ‘Me, too?’ Does he think Stan did it, not Bill?  _ “Oh, does your boyfriend not know? He attacked someone last year. Little Jewboy thought he could take my friend on. He did good, I’ll give him that. But remember what happened,  _ Stanley?”  _ Stan smacked his hand away when it got close to his cheek. 

  “Don’t fucking touch me,” he whispered. His voice was wavering and getting quieter, and  _ something  _ was happening behind his eyes. 

  Henry leaned in and whispered, “That’s not what you s –” and Richie went apeshit. He pushed Stan out of the way before rearing his arm back and punching Bowers as hard as he could in the jaw. It wasn’t very hard, but it was hard enough to leave a large, red mark.  _ Where the fuck are the teachers? Where the  _ fuck  _ are the teachers?  _ People were pulling their phones out and Bowers was about to go fucking ham, but the principal walked out. Richie had never been more grateful for oblivious adults, because everyone scattered. 

  “I’ll fucking get you back,” Bowers muttered. “Swear to god, Tozier, I will.” He shot a glance to Stan before rushing off with everyone else. 

  Richie looked around for Ben, but he was gone.  _ Good.  _ When he looked back at Stan, Stan was muttering something.  _ “Robins,” _ he heard. When he listened closer, he could hear more.  _ “Grey egrets… loons… sc – sc – scar – scarlet…” _

  Richie frowned and he walked to Stan, having not realising before how far away he was. “Stan?” he said quietly. Stan’s eyes were squeezed shut  _ (“Grackles…”)  _ and he jumped really bad when Richie touched his shoulders. His eyes were wide and wet and scared. Richie opened his arms slowly and Stan fell into them, gripping the back of Richie’s jacket. He was trembling and crying and making  _ horrible,  _ choked noises, and Richie vowed to  _ never  _ let Stan get like that again. 

_   Never. _

* * *

  “Robins.” Stan looked up at Richie and frowned. “Robins? What was… grey… grey eggs?”

  “Egrets,” Stan snickered. “Not eggs, Richie.” Stan was still acting a little weird after whatever had happened with Bowers, but Richie didn’t mind. Stan was curled up against his side and Richie’s hand was in his hair, and Stan wasn’t talking that much. They were sitting in Richie’s bed, Richie’s laptop playing a playlist of random videos. The question _ (“What the hell happened?”)  _ was at the back of this throat, but he knew better than to ask. 

  He’d google it later, of course, but in that moment, he needed to be there for Stan. “You know,” he said, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you get that upset. What happened?”  _ You fucking idiot, you just said you wouldn’t ask. Way to go.  _

__ Stan swallowed and shook his head, curling in on himself even more and making himself even smaller. “Doesn’t matter.” He buried his face in Richie’s shoulder and Richie found that their hands were pressed together, so he laced their fingers together, too. “Stuff that happened a while ago,” he said after a while. “Bad stuff.”

  “Yeah, Stanley,” Richie chuckled. “Yeah, I figured that much. You don’t have to talk about it. Not until you’re ready. If you’re never ready, that’s okay.” 

  Stan nodded. “Okay… okay. Thank you.”

  It took Richie a minute to think about what he was going to do. He could either google it, like he wanted to, or wait until Stan was ready to tell him, like he felt he should. He weighed the decisions out and decided that if Stan didn’t want him to know yet, he didn’t want him to know yet. He had to respect that, or he was a piece of shit. He didn’t want to risk losing Stan over something that was none of his business in the first place.

  Richie hesitated before kissing Stan’s forehead. “Yeah,” he whispered, inaudible. “Yeah.”

* * *

 

  The first time Richie saw Bill out of the hospital, it was _weeks_ later. Bill could barely talk, his phone was taken away and he was grounded, and it was absolute hell. But when he finally did, it was like Bill had been off at fucking war for years. They were supposed to meet at a park, and Mike and Ben were accompanying them. When Richie saw Bill, he just fucking _sprinted_ to him. Bill sprinted too, and the collision made Bill groan, but him and Richie kept equally tight grips on each other. “Bill. _Bill,”_ Richie whispered. He buried his face in the crook of Bill’s neck, taking him in as much as he could.

  “Richie,” Bill whispered back. His voice was hoarse, like he hadn’t talked in days, and Richie realised he probably hadn’t.  _ “Fuck,  _ Richie, it’s been –”

_ “Nine fucking years,”  _ Richie whined. He sniffled and sighed softly, squeezing Bill before moving back a little to actually look at him. The bags under Bill’s eyes matched his own, and he swore that his cheek was bruised, but he wasn’t sure. He smiled and hugged Bill again, closing his eyes. “Missed you,” he whispered. 

  Bill moved away and Richie frowned, but he came back to cup Richie’s cheeks. When Bill kissed him, Ben yelled out a laughing,  _ “oooooooooooh!”  _ and him and Mike started making kissy noises at Bill and Richie. Richie rolled his eyes and hugged Bill again. “Don’t do that to me again,” he mumbled. “You’re not allowed to.”

  “I won’t,” Bill said quietly, honestly. “I won’t.” They held each other for a bit longer before Ben started to call for them. Richie pulled away and he walked toward Ben, but didn’t let go of Bill’s hand. He  _ couldn’t.  _

  “I think we should go get something to eat. To celebrate,” Ben grinned.

  “Is all you ever think about food?” Richie sighed, looking up at the clouds. “Besides, it’s gonna rain soon. We can make something at Bill’s.” Bill tensed up and his grip on Richie’s hand tightened a little. “Mine,” he corrected. “I have… something. Oven pizza, probably.”  _ What happened? Is he okay? Did they hurt him?  _ They set on their way, Mike and Richie bantering back and forth while Ben and Bill talked about something quietly. 

  “Hey, Richie, how come your parents are never home? Are they, like, FBI agents, or something?” Ben asked when they were all standing on his porch. 

  Richie looked at him. There was no expression on his face, he was just looking at Ben. He smiled a little, only with his mouth, and said, “Yeah. Something like that.”

  They walked inside and Richie moved some boxes (“Let me help, Rich –” “No, fuck you, I can do it myself.”) and they were all able to settle on Richie’s couch. Richie was curled up with Bill, and Mike and Ben were sat next to each other. Ben’s ears were red and his cheeks were splashed wine, and he kept stealing glances at Richie. Mike and Richie got everyone drinks and put the pizza in the oven in less than five minutes, and Ben somehow managed to spill his milk all over himself within those five minutes.

  “You’re always spilling shit,” Richie snickered. He chucked a towel at the floor and led Ben upstairs. “Just go take your shirt off and I’ll throw it in the wash, you can borrow one of mine. He turned around and started rummaging through some of the baskets.  _ Which one’s the clean laundry?  _ He took a moment and squinted at them before  _ blue.  _ He turned to the blue one and grabbed a sweater, but when he turned around, he was shocked at what he saw. Ben was in the middle of taking his shirt off, and he had ace bandages wrapped around his chest and ribs.

  He wasn’t trying to  _ stare,  _ but he couldn’t get the realisation out of his head. He passed so fucking  _ well,  _ Richie would have never even considered the possibility that he was trans. He had barely considered the possibility anyone else in the town was. When their eyes met, Ben’s were full of fear and Richie’s were still laced with confusion. “Ace bandaging is bad, you know,” he said. “Damages your lungs.”

  “So does smoking,” Ben quipped, his face hot and his hands shaking. “Can I have the shirt, now, please?” 

  Richie threw the sweater at him and frowned. “It’s a joke, right?”

  “I’m  _ sorry?” _

__ “The… the ace. It’s a joke. Or something to help with dysmorphia. Ben, there’s no fucking way you’re –”

  “I’m on hormone blockers. I have been for a while,” Ben mumbled. “We… We go out of town to get them.” He shoved his hands through the sleeves and looked up at Richie. “Please don’t tell the others. It’s not something a lot of people know. I think you’re the first person at the school to, so –” Richie started laughing. He started laughing and Ben looked  _ pissed.  _ “What? What’s so funny?”

  “You – You –  _ fuck!”  _ he howled, gripping his stomach and nearly doubling over. “You really…” he panted, “think I’d  _ tell them?  _ Hanscom, I don’t know if we’ve met. Hi, I’m Richie Tozier, queer tranny extraordinaire.” He held his hand out and Ben stared at it. 

  “You promise you won’t tell?” His voice was small, nervous. Terror was still painted clearly on his face. 

  Richie sighed and grabbed Ben’s hand. He got down on one knee and pressed Ben’s knuckles to his lips. “I solemnly swear, Haystack, this stays between you and I.” Ben rolled his eyes and took his hand back.  _ Yeah…  _ his eyes said.  _ Yeah, okay.  _

__ Richie grabbed a couple of random shirts to throw in with Ben’s and he stood against the wall as he waited for the machine to turn  _ on.  _ He swore his house was fucking haunted, or something. For his parents, everything would work immediately. For him, it’d take up to ten minutes just for the washing machine to turn on, not to mention running it. He thought everything he’d learned in the last few days over.

_ Stan and Bowers have… some sort of past. Ben can’t stop spilling shit, and he’s trans. Bill’s parents are being douchebags again. Mike gets angrier than we thought.  _ He rubbed his hands over his face and pulled out his phone to four missed texts.

**bevvy wevvy:** _ richie? _

__ **bevvy wevvy:** _ richie????? please _

__ **bevvy wevvy:** _ richie can i come over?? i need to tell you something _

__ **bevvy wevvy:** _ i’m coming over _

__ The twenty minutes between the clock and the time on the messages and the knocking on Richie’s door told him that she was being completely serious, and it wasn’t something that could be blown off. He groaned and punched  _ start  _ again, praying it’d run while he was downstairs. He jogged down the stairs (the distinct beeping started, and he wanted to scream) to find Bev already in his living room. Stan was standing behind her, but while he looked fine, she was panting a little and her hair was a mess and had he not known better, he would have thought she had been hurt. 

  “What’s going on?” He flung the fridge open to get her a water bottle, not giving a shit about what his parents would say about it later on that day. If they came home that day. He opened it for her and thrust it into her hand. She chugged half of it and slammed it down on the counter before she spoke. Everyone was looking at her at that point, so she looked around and opened her mouth. 

  “Nothing,” she said, a shit-eating grin spreading across her face. Stan threw his hands up in the air and flung himself onto the couch, rubbing his hands over his face. “I just wanted to come say hi and see our boy. When I heard we were all here, I decided I wanted to join the party.” Richie snapped his gaze to the living room, where Mike was staring at Beverly with wide eyes. 

  “I sent you  _ one  _ Snapchat –”

  “Yeah, a very  _ cute  _ one, Hanlon.”

  “I’m sorry, I’m still lost at the part where you needed to tell me something. I thought something was  _ wrong,  _ Beverly,” Richie sighed. He rubbed his hands over his face and shook his head. “You need to… stop. Stop scaring me, stop stealing Stanley, and stop running to my house. Get a fucking bike.” He bit his lip and looked at Mike, then back at Beverly. “Let’s…” he thought it over for a second, grinned, and continued with, “let’s fucking party.”

* * *

  Richie didn’t know how Mike did it. He was sitting there, Ben on one arm and Bev on another. Bev was whining about something – probably homework – and Ben and Mike were looking at her with wide eyes and open ears. He was high as shit and his eyes were red and fluttering, but he made sure to listen to every word. Ben’s cheeks were flushed, as were his ears, and his fingers were laced with Mike’s. He mumbled something about Mike having big hands and they laughed.

  Bill was asleep on Richie’s bed, curled up with one leg sticking out from the blanket. He was twitching a little, which worried Richie, but he calmed down soon after. Stan was… Richie didn’t actually know where Stan was. He said he was going to go get a drink and he never came back. Richie thought back to when that had happened during class.

_   Eddie hadn’t dared to even look in Richie’s direction. If he had to, he did it as minutely as he possibly could. His fanny pack was back on his hip and his hair was gelled back again and Richie couldn’t breathe. He didn’t know why, but every time he was in the same room as Eddie, he was  _ there.  _ His presence drew all the attention toward him, and it made it hard for Richie to forget what he had done to Bill. Eddie’s foot was in a boot and he hobbled a little and when Richie tried to defend him, Eddie snapped, “I don’t need help from someone like you!” and solicited a low, “oooooooooh…” from the class.  _

_   Stan left to get water soon after, and he didn’t come back. After class, Richie found out that Stan had just hung out in the bathroom. He was sitting on the floor, legs crossed, book in hand. “Oh,” Richie said,  _ very  _ intelligently. Stan had been crying, and Richie could tell. His cheeks had tear stains tracked down them, his eyes were red and a little swollen, and his chest was still heaving. Richie smelled faint sick, but he couldn’t tell if it was the general high school bathroom funk or if someone had recently thrown up. He frowned and knelt next to Stan. “You okay?” _

_   “Yeah,” Stan replied. “Just… overwhelmed. You know how it is.” They left it at that. A tiny voice in the back of Richie’s head told him to press on it, to tell Stan he knew it was something more, but he couldn’t. He wouldn’t.  _

__ He stood slowly and wobbled a little, gripping the wall. He nodded before walking out and downstairs. “Stan?” he called softly, “Stanley?” He walked around a little longer with his eyebrows furrowed until he noticed the bathroom light on.  _ If it’s been on all day, I’m gonna get my ass whooped.  _ He opened the door and blinked at first when he saw Stan on the floor. Nothing went through his mind. He blanked.

  When he smelled the same pungent smell he had a few days prior, however, he knew exactly what had happened. He rushed to the kitchen to grab another water bottle  _ (I’m gonna get my ass kicked.  _ Stan needs water.  _ I’m gonna get my ass kicked.)  _ and he rushed back to the bathroom to give it to Stan. “Are you sick?” he asked softly. Stan chuckled a little and shook his head.

  “No,” he croaked. “Not in a conventional way.” Richie sighed and held his hand out to help Stan up. He was able to get up on wobbly legs with minimal swaying. He dug around for a bit for a spare toothbrush. “You know, Richie,” Stan laughed, mouth foaming with toothpaste. He spit and rinsed his mouth out before continuing, “you’re too fucking good for this world.”

  Richie shook his head and led Stan to the couch. “I’m not. I fucking suck, Stanley.” He sat down and pulled Stan down with him, wrapping his arms around the latter.

  “You don’t. You  _ really  _ don’t, Richie.” Stan sighed and he let his head lean back onto Richie’s shoulder. “You smell like pot.” 

  “We were smoking pot. You were there, Stan.” 

  “Oh… I guess I was, wasn’t I?”

  Richie laughed and nodded. “Yeah… Yeah, you were. Until you weren’t. What’s… what’s going on, Stan? First at school, now this?”

  Stan tensed up and he closed his eyes. “It’s nothing.” They sat in silence for a couple minutes before he spoke up again. “Anxiety Induced Purging Type Bulimia Nervosa. It affects me most during the wintertime because of high levels of stress due to holidays and family visiting and other shit. Seasonal depression, I guess. It can also be set off by remembering traumatic events I had previously repressed.” Richie kept quiet. “I remembered some bad shit a couple weeks ago.”

  Richie nodded and decided not to press on. “I’m sorry, Stanley.” 

  Stan turned around in Richie’s lap and smiled a little, his eyes welling up with tears. “You know,” he said, voice cracking a little, “you’re the first friend I’ve had since Bill. Well… I had another friend, but he was a fucking…” Stan made a torn noise between choking and a sob, “prick.” Richie bit his lip and he panicked a little.  _ What do I do? What would Bill do? What would Bill do?  _ He sprung forward and kissed Stan.  _ That’s what Bill does.  _ Stan pulled away. His tears had stopped. 

  His eyes were wide and wet and his eyelashes were sticking together. His cheeks were turning red and a smile was twitching at his lips. He cupped Richie’s cheeks and kissed him again. It was awkward and clumsy but it was  _ good.  _ Richie didn’t know if he’d wanted anything more than a  _ good  _ kiss in the last year. Bill was a good kisser, but he was a different type of good. He was comforting and warm. Stan was… something else. Richie couldn’t place it, but it made him want to never stop. He cupped the back of Stan’s neck and –

  “You didn’t inv – vuh – vite me?” Bill mumbled. “Rude.” Richie jumped and he pulled away, looking over at Bill. He wasn’t sure what to expect, but he didn’t expect Bill to be grinning. “’S hot. My boys making out.”  _ He didn’t stutter.  _ Stan rolled his eyes and held his hand up, and Richie assumed he was giving Bill the bird. He was absolutely correct. 

  “Fuck you, Denbrough. You’re just jealous I’m not in your lap.”

  “Yeah,” Bill sighed. “Yeah, I suh – suppose so. Or maybe I’m j – j – jealous of you? Richie’s a  _ fant – t – tastic  _ kisser, isn’t he?”

  Richie went red and he shoved Stan off of his lap. “Fuck you. Fuck both of you, actually.”

  “Oh, baby, I know you  _ want  _ to –”

  “I fucking hate you, Stan. Die. Actually fucking die.”

  Stan patted Richie’s cheek and grinned. “One day.”


End file.
